No mountain high enough, no river wide enough
by SheyRicci
Summary: All Sam had to do was dig up a grave, salt and burn the bones and return to pick up his brother. It should have been that simple. When would Dean learn not to ask what could go wrong?
1. Chapter 1

Jody?" Maggie's muffled voice came from being head and shoulders deep in the fridge. "Since when did you start drinking this beer? Good God, it's buried, did you forget about it? I mean, seriously, it's like you hid it!"

"What beer?" Jody popped up over the shoulder of her deceased husband's mother who was visiting for a week. "Oh, that beer. Yeah, no, put that back. I don't like that beer. There's Coors or Bud Lite in there somewhere, keep digging."

"Then why do you have it? And lite beer? Seriously?"

"Friend stopped by, his beer of choice, you know?"

"Does he drop by regularly?" Maggie teased, removing what she'd been after in the fridge and closing the door.

"No." Jody said with a shrug. "Well, now and again."

"I see. So, ever overnight? Would explain the men's razor in the medicine cabinet and the socks I found on the shelf in the hallway linen closet. And that shirt hanging on the back of the door? Not something Owen ever would have worn."

"Aah, no." Jody managed not to blush. "Law official." she said hurriedly. "Comes through town every so often, you know that old Bobby Singer is always up to no good."

"Right. Well, ok, if that's the story you're sticking with, fine." Maggie laughed. "But Jody, it's been several years, if you….have, well, it's about time, you know? I know you loved my son and no one is going to hold it against you if you've moved on."

"Aah, ok, thanks. I think."

"Guess that would also explain the salad dressing and flavored croutons I've never known you to eat. You're more the creamy type salad dressing, right?" Maggie waggled about the bag of croutons. "Never knew you to eat these either and hey, by the way, I don't ever recall Sean's room having bunk beds."

"We have dinner. And Sean had friends over, some spent the night." Jody acknowledged, wishing Maggie would let the matter drop. How was she suppose to explain that at any given time, a set of brothers could drop by to spend a night or two while one or the other recovered from a minor injury and needed a place to crash while they caught up on research and restocked ammo and supplies? "Not what you're thinking Maggie, they…..he's…too …..young. Now come on, let's get going before we miss the movie."

***()()()()()()()()***

Sam wearily climbed from the car and unlocked the side door to the garage. He lacked a remote for the automatic garage door but had a key to enter the garage and raise the door from the wall switch. He was beat, he was tired and dirty, he was hungry and he smelled. He wanted toothbrush, hot shower, shampoo, something to eat, bed and a pillow.

They were heading back to finish a job in a town that was yet some distance away and he needed a place to leave Dean for a night or two. He doubted Dean would give him any grief over the unscheduled stop. He was just as tired as, if not more so, than Sam; had to be, if he'd willingly allowed Sam to take the wheel and drive.

It didn't appear anyone was home but they were welcome any time, had a key to both garage and house, the latter of which, they had free run of. He nudged Dean awake, shouldered both duffels then prodded and pushed his doped-on-allergy-meds brother around the car and through the door of the attached garage that led into the house.

"No, no, no, hey-hey-hey…..this way…that's it….come on." Dean didn't argue or refuse, just allowed himself to be led, propelled and maneuvered into the bedroom where he found his bed on his own. Pausing to pull off his boots, he shed himself of his coat before crawling under the covers and pulling them over his head. "Yeah, you sleep." Sam made a face as he felt his hair. He'd been the one dragged through the mud, not his brother. Dean was relatively clean and could wait until morning to shower. Wasn't like he had mud in his teeth or clumped in his hair. God, Sam hoped it was only mud. All Dean was capable of doing was sleeping anyway. Sam really needed to find an allergy medication that worked and didn't knock his brother out.

Sam dug through his duffel for clean clothes then headed off to the bathroom for a much desired shower and shampoo. His hair needed a deep conditioning treatment. He knew Jody would have hot oil in the linen closet, might as well give his hair the nice treatment it deserved, cause yeah, he was gonna be that long in the shower.

***()()()()()()()()***

Maggie entered the house through the front door. Jody had dropped her off then gone on to the office where her deputy had called with some problem or another. She toed her shoes off by the front door, removing her coat as she hummed her way across the living room. Her old bones begged for a hot cup of tea and a slice or two of toast as a snack while she waited up for her daughter-in-law, whom she affectionately called daughter, to return. Not having been prepared for the possibility of a towel clad man roaming the house, her freak-out upon entering the kitchen was completely understandable.

Sam stood at the island counter, one towel around his waist, another around his neck, catching the drips from his wet hair so that they didn't run down his bare back. He was making a sandwich, calmly slicing tomatoes when her shrieks startled him into jumping and slicing his thumb. He cursed aloud, stuck the injured appendage into his mouth and turned to confront the shrieking banshee who had invaded his peace and solitude, prepared to defend himself, the house and his sleeping sibling by wielding the inadequate knife defensively in his other hand.

He let his wet hair hang in face, shielding his expression as he cursed himself out for being caught unawares, unprepared and undressed with only a flimsy kitchen knife for defense. It took him several precious seconds to focus and realize that what he faced was no threat to him or his brother.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" she demanded shakily, one palm against her racing heart the other bracing her weight against the wall. "You…you…..I'm calling the police." her hand floundered along the wall as she inched her way slowly over to the phone. Her eyes never broke contact, wary that he would either attack or flee.

"Wouldn't that be Jody?" Sam, recovered from his own fright and no longer alarmed, sent her a smile that disarmed her past the point of having the power to speak. "Hi, I'm Sam." he lowered the knife. She was in her later sixties, if not early seventies and while she posed no immediate threat, the last thing he wanted to do was scare her into calling the police and have the possibility of someone other than Jody respond. "And you are who?

He was glad he was the one she had encountered and not Dean. Even if his brother wasn't miserable and medicated, he would have scared the poor woman into having a heart attack. He wouldn't have responded to her shrieks with smiles and conversation. If he'd managed to say anything at all, it would have been along the lines of; 'who the hell are you?' 'what the fuck are you doing here?' and 'give me one good reason why I shouldn't put you down with a bullet between your eyes?'

"Sam." she licked her lips nervously, phone now in hand but she had yet to start dialing. What was the matter with her? Three buttons was all she had to push, and one was repeatable. "May I ask what you are doing here?"

"Making a sandwich."

His friendly smile, light tone and easy-going attitude along with his laid back body language eased the panic fluttering about her chest but her heart was still pounding, causing her to remain cautious. Since when was a smile and twinkling eyes enough to disarm her to the point she wasn't capable of doing the sensible, right thing to do? Like calling 911 and reporting a wet, hairy giant striding about her daughters kitchen wearing naught but a towel as he made a sandwich?

"You mean, making yourself at home." she corrected. Focus Margaret, she ordered herself sternly. He could be a thief or kidnapper or rapist or murderer or….or….oh hell she might be 71 but she prided herself on her excellent eyesight. Blind she was not and while the man in front of her was obviously capable of violence, oddly she did not feel threatened.

"Well, guess so, yeah." he pushed his hair out of his eyes and they twinkled in amusement at her obvious state of fluster.

"Would you happen to like garlic croutons and Balsamic salad dressing?" of the all the stupid things to come out of her mouth, that's what she said? She mentally slapped herself, what the hell was she thinking? Unknown, towel clad man in her daughters kitchen and she asks him what he likes on his salad? Way to get yourself killed Margaret!

Sam tilted his head as he considered her most unusual question. "Aah, yes I do. Goes great with grilled chicken."

She blew her breath out and visibly relaxed. She put the phone receiver back on its base and made her way over to pull out a chair and sit down at the table. Why that admission soothed away the last of her misgivings, she couldn't say, but it did.

"So, you must be the law official that occasionally stops by. She mentioned you were younger but she neglected to say you just felt free to make yourself at home."

"Oh." he gave her a sheepish smile and a casual shrug. "Yeah, well, I kinda…"

She gave a squeak of alarm and jumped up from the chair so quickly she knocked it over in her haste to scramble away from the table. She grabbed wildly for something, anything to either hide behind or to defend herself with. Sam frowned when she visibly paled and her eyes rolled wildly as she yanked open the refrigerator door and ducked behind it.

"What's the matter?" Sam asked gently. "I…." he turned around to see a wild-eyed, unshaven Dean whose hair, that had grown out over the last month, was tousled and blown sideways in every direction from disturbed sleep. It's spiky do, along with his red, swollen eyes and unkempt scruff, made him look sinister and malevolent. Add to that, the gun he aimed directly at the poor woman was enough to send anyone into fits of alarm. He sighed, belatedly realizing Dean had come to his defense in response to his grunt and curse of pain. Leave it to Dean to sleep through ear-splitting female shrieks of terror yet become wide awake upon a mere grunted curse from his brother. He should have expected that.

"Dean, put that away." he reached for a towel to wrap around his thumb. "Dean!"

"Who the hell is she?" he remained in the doorway of the kitchen that led to the hallway, but lowered the gun from being aimed at her head to her shoulder. He didn't need to see how or where she crouched behind the fridge door. He could, would easily be able to shoot through it and hit his target exactly where he wanted to. "What the hell is she doing here?"

"Well, if you'd quit scaring her, maybe she'll tell us." Sam shook his head. "Way to go Dean, give the poor woman a heart attack."

"I'm Maggie, Jody's mother-in-law." her hair appeared first, then her forehead and finally her eyes popped over the top of the door. "Her husbands mother." she rose to her feet and stepped away from the fridge door, letting it close, knees telling her to either take a seat or be dumped to the floor.

"Nice to meet you." Sam righted the chair and gave the seat a pat. "The gun wielding manic is my brother. Forgive him, he's stoned on allergy meds and responded thinking I was in danger." he walked over to Dean and plucked the gun from his hand. "Go back to bed."

"You're bleeding." hands curled into fists and rubbed at his eyes. He wasn't about to leave his brother unarmed...and...he lowered a fist and peered at Sam with one watery, bloodshot eye, yup that was indeed a towel, his undressed brother alone with Granny with no means to protect himself. His nose twitched and he caught himself trying to scratch the itch the back of his mouth with his tongue. Oh no, no, not another sneezing fit. Not now.

"Yeah, knife slipped." he removed the towel and gave his thumb a close inspection. "Won't even need a stitch. See?" he thrust his thumb at his brothers face whose squint and step back told Sam he wasn't capable of judging the injury for himself. "You shouldn't be up."

Dean gave another rub to his eyes, the look of mistrust and dislike he cast Maggie's way, disrupted by a violent sneeze that rocked him back on his heels. Sam handed him a box of tissues, took him by the shoulders, turned him around and sent him off with a shove towards their room.

Maggie didn't breathe normally or release a sigh of relief until he was out of sight and she heard the click of a bedroom door being shut. "Guess that explains the bunk beds." she laughed weakly. It wasn't every day you encountered gun wielding men in your daughter's house, or anywhere for that matter. "Jody failed to mention there were two of you." and there better not be a third. Two were enough and of those two, one was going to keep her sleepless her entire stay, or as long as they stayed.

"Surprised she mentioned us at all."

"She didn't. It was the razor and the beer and the shirt and the salad dressing…..the bunk beds….."

"We travel a lot, drop in when we're nearby."

"Without her being home? I mean, you must have a key and you feel at home here, don't you? Certainly know you're way around and….well….." she paused, then waved a hand dismissively. "Helped yourself to the shower and kitchen….leave your things here." good heavens, she was 71 years of age. Why on earth was the sight of a naked male chest flustering her? "Do you….erhm, have clothes?"

"Yeah, here, slice me some tomatoes while I go get dressed."

"Yeah, yeah, good idea….you…..you go do that." she muttered to herself. "And how about locking the door when you leave the room? Keep him in there." soon as Sam was out of sight, she grabbed the phone and dialed Jody, praying she would answer. "Come on, come on, come on…"

"Hello?" Jody chirped. "Late night craving? I'll be home in about an hour. The Dipsy Doodle is still open, what say I swing by and get us some milkshakes?"

"I'd say, you better bring home 4." good, that was good, voice steady, not shaking, able to speak without stuttering.

"What? 4 what? What are you talking….oh."

"Oh? Oh? Is that all you have to say? Oh? Law official huh? Forgot some details there, didn't you Jody?" yup, that was the way, remain calm, speak civilly. Yay Maggie! she congratulated herself, way to go!

"Aah, I don't think so." she sounded perplexed. "Like what?"

"Like there are two of them? And they are big and carry guns and…" doing good, doing good, not panicking, no need to panic, do not panic.

"Shit. You didn't scare them, did you?"

"Scare them? Scare them? Beg your pardon? _Scare them_? Did _I_ SCARE them?" too bad she didn't coach herself against anger! "Are you seriously more worried about THEM than ME? I'm an old woman Jody, my poor heart! It can't take shocks like these!"

"They wouldn't have expected you to be in the house. Good Lord, you did, didn't you? You managed to scare them. Wow, good job, they don't scare easily, but they're skittish around other people…they ran, didn't they?" she ended with a sad sigh. She hadn't expected the brothers anytime soon. It'd been awhile and they were lying low, trying to stay under the radar. Huh, could only wonder what had brought them to her door. "Oh Maggie."

"Skittish? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? One's completely at ease running around your home naked and the other comes charging out all wild-eyed with electric socket hair waving a gun in my face, A GUN Jody! And you're asking me if I SCARED THEM?"

"Now Maggie, calm down, they're just boys." Jody replied calmly. "And I doubt either one was naked."

"Just….just-boys? Have you lost your mind Jody? They are GROWN MEN! Dangerous looking MEN with GUNS who are right at HOME in your house!"

"Well, of course they are." Jody chuckled. "Dean would never shoot you unless you were smothering, stabbing or trying to shoot Sam." she sounded sad, didn't need to know which brother had been the one wielding the gun, she knew. Though if she'd had to guess which one would be running around naked, she'd never have chosen Sam. "Did they happen to mention where they were going? Or why they stopped?"

"Yeah, Dean, with the short hair, yeah, he'd be the gun wielding scary ass dude sleeping in your son's room."

"Phish, they're harmless. Just a couple of boys, brothers." Jody assured her. "I'm on my way home."

"Yeah, well, good, cause I gotta tell you, they're freaking me out."

"Freaking you…sleeping in...? Wait, you mean…are they still there?"

"Hey, is that Jody?" Sam was next to her and she leaped up from her chair, knocking it over for a second time. Her heart thudded so loudly, she was sure he could hear it beating against her chest. The smile on his face assured her he'd at least heard her admit to Jody they freaked her out. "Here, lemme to talk to her." he took the phone from Maggie's limp hold, denying her the opportunity to tell him no. "Hey Jody, Sam, you know of any allergy medication that doesn't have DPH in it?"

"Um, wow, hi Sam. Maggie didn't make you turn and run? Allergy meds? Thought you knew about every medication out there."

"Well yeah, the ones we've taken, pain meds and antibiotics, but…neither one of us ever really had allergies before."

"Well ok, just about any of the over-the-counter meds, the non-drowsy ones. Off the top of my head, the only one I can think of that has it is Benadryl. Why the need to know?"

"Dean. Known him 29 years of his life and now, he has an allergy. Might be mold, god only knows in our line of…work. Benadryl knocks him out but it was all the mini-mart had. Well, had Nasonex, but don't want that, causes slow healing of injury."

"Try Alavert. It's non-drowsy, comes in dissolvable tablets and I happen to have some in the bathroom off my bedroom." she paused. "Injury? Dean's injured?" that explained what they were doing at her house. "How bad?"

"He's fine. Ok, guess it's worth a shot. So, we seeing you soon?"

"Oh yeah, on my way home now. Say, did you put some clothes on? You're making old Maggie blush." so Sam claimed Dean wasn't injured too badly but apparently the injury was bad enough Sam had sought refuge at her house. Huh, odd.

"Yeah, I'm dressed." he laughed. "See you." he hung up and took the tomato slices from Maggie. "Thanks, make you a sandwich?"

"No, no thanks." she watched him add pepperoni and shredded cheese. "See you bandaged your thumb."

"Yeah, so…." he joined her at the table with his sandwich, couple cookies and a glass of milk. "You're Owen's mother."

"Did you know my son?"

"Aah, no, no I didn't…so, think Jody will get home before I finish eating? Kinda finding it hard to stay awake." he couldn't hide the yawn. "It's after 10, isn't it?" he really shouldn't eat so late and then go straight to bed, but he hadn't had anything to eat all day and he knew from years of hunting, he'd never sleep if he went to bed hungry.

"She should be here in 20 minutes or so." Maggie leaned across the table to cut his sandwich in half when his bandaged thumb impeded his ability to do so. "Aah, did your…..brother is it?" she waited for Sam's nod of affirmation. "Did he go to sleep?"

"He's in bed. Doubtful he'll sleep much but don't worry." Sam grinned. "He'll stay in our room and should he get up and roam about, I've taken his gun from him."

"Is that suppose to make me sleep easier tonight?" she joked.

"He means you no harm." Sam assured her. "He's….not himself…he doesn't feel so good and he doesn't know what to do about it. Doesn't happen often." he pushed his chair back and started to get up.

"Sit, sit, what do you need? More milk?"

"Please, and the mustard."

Dean stirred when Sam entered the room to go to bed. He awoke somewhat when Sam nudged him, his recent habit of ensuring Dean still breathed, before climbing into the top bunk. A habit Dean'd learned to respond to because if he didn't, the gentle nudge would become a poke, then a shove before reverting to shaking until he finally moved and satisfied Sam's anxiety.

"Should just sleep on the floor." Dean yawned, voice slurred with sleep as the bed frames jostled from Sam's weight.

"Why are you awake?" he hung his head off the mattress to frown down at his brother who slept on his stomach, facing the wall.

"Cause you just woke me."

"No, I made sure you were breathing."

"Whatever. So, the Sheriff's house?" he eased on to his back. "Why? We weren't close, were we?"

"I gotta leave you somewhere."

"And a motel wouldn't do, why?"

"Aah, gee I dunno, maybe the weird reaction you're having to allergy meds?" Sam fluffed his pillow. "You know, to the allergy you've never had before."

"You're the only one insisting it's an allergy. Dunno why you keep saying that?"

"Maybe it's the red, swollen, watery, itchy eyes. The violent fits of sneezing and the nasal congestion, well, when your nose ain't running. And though you've never admitted it, I'm guessing sinus headache…..does your throat itch?"

"Shut up." Dean groused. "Geesh, give a man a…..wait….leave me? Where you goin?"

"Back to finish the job."

"Alone?"

"You can't go. Stay here, get some sleep, I'll leave in the morning…..be back tomorrow night."

Dean didn't respond. Sam was capable of digging up the grave and salting and burning the bones of the spirit haunting a hiker's trail in the Black Hills mountains. They'd been about two hours out from the town that was home to the cemetery where one Mortimer Hughley was buried. Sam had driven the opposite way to reach Sioux Falls, would have taken him about 3 hours, which meant, he had a 5 hour drive one way the next day.

"Fine." he didn't argue. What could go wrong anyway? "But…you're stupid to do it all in one day, hell, you were stupid to drive all the way here…spend the night."


	2. Chapter 2

Maggie opened her door just enough she could press her eye to the crack and peek out into the hallway. Hearing nothing, she opened the door wider and popped her whole head out. Emboldened when she saw nothing, she started to tiptoe down the hallway. She really needed to use the bathroom and unlike Jody's room, hers didn't have an attached bathroom. She'd slept with her door locked and a chair wedged underneath the doorknob but daylight had made her brave, nature's call made her desperate and here she was, tiptoeing around the house.

A sound from the kitchen she didn't recognize froze her in mid step, foot dangling so long in the air that her slipper fell from her foot and hit the floor with a plop that resounded like crescendoing cymbals in an orchestra pit. She cringed, afraid to move, convinced the noise would result in another confrontation with the gun wielding maniac from the prior night.

Oh Gawd! She was suddenly hit with a horrifying thought! Was she expected to have to share a bathroom with…those….that….._them_? Certainly not. She set her jaw, privacy between female family members be damned. Jody would just have to share her bathroom until…unless….hey, now there was a cheery thought. It was morning, the house was quiet so perhaps they had departed with the moon.

She bent over to retrieve her slipper, tightened the belt on her robe and made her way down the hall to Jody's bathroom. Crap. What was that noise? It was definitely coming from the kitchen. Well, it was neither her business nor her problem and she was _not_ going to go investigate. She had to pee and at her age, her bladder didn't take kindly to being told to wait.

Conscience kicked aside determination and curiosity won the argument with bodily functions and here she stood, a place she considered safe to stand; the doorway. She held her slipper in her hand because in her mind, it would serve as a weapon had she need of one. Posed in the doorway, she was prepared for flight should he suddenly rise up and fly at her like she expected him to do at any moment but he took no notice of her, offered no greeting, didn't even glance up. She eased her head around the door frame to get a better look at what he was doing, took a step closer...and

"That needs stitches." she blurted out, hand clapping over her mouth in horror as he raised his head. He may not have his gun nearby but those tired, pain-filled eyes scared the bejesus outta her.

"Yeah." Dean said tiredly, he didn't care. Stitches were nothing new. He'd learned years ago, at the tender age of ten, to withstand the discomfort of stitches without benefit of anything to ease the pain. "Though, it's not that bad." he had bandages and gauze laid out on the table in front of him with his left arm propped up on a folded towel on the table. He tied off the bandage with the aid of his teeth. "Who are you?"

"You…aah, met me last night, don't you remember?"

"No."

"Aren't you going to…..I mean, did you….." she began only to click her teeth into silence when he leveled a look on her that would freeze water. Ok, so none of his brothers easy-going personality here. No lazy grin, no twinkle, hell no warmth in those eyes whatsoever.

"So, you….you're some kind of expert on injuries and the treatment one might require?"

"Hey, look at you!" Jody pushed her way past Maggie and entered the kitchen. "Almost in the same room together. What's going…ooooohhh, what'd you go and do there Dean? Did I hear Maggie say you should stitch that?"

"Nuthing." how long had the old lady been standing the doorway watching him and why hadn't he sensed her doing so?

"Sam know? He doesn't, does he?" she shook her head, clucking her tongue in disapproval. Had Sam known, he would have told her, wait…no, he knew, he had told her, well he'd said something about Dean being injured. However she doubted he knew Dean had needed stitches. Course, what she considered severe might not match Sam's definition. She wondered how bad an injury would need to be for Sam not to leave his brother behind in her care. "Knife?"

"No." Dean shouldered her away. "And yes, Sam knows, so back off." both his demeanor and his tone gave a clear warning that he wanted to be left alone and that he expected her to comply with his wishes.

Maggie backed into the hallway where she darted glances towards the bedroom door. Sam could come out and join them any time now. Sam? Oh yoo-hoo! Top of the morning to you! Jolly good day to pack up your, hasn't-seen-a-comb-or-a-razor-in-days sibling with the swollen red eyes and you know, leave. Get out. Go away. Vamoose. Say, I hear Florida's a nice place for a couple young chaps to vacation. Have a nice drive, now shoo.

But the door didn't open and Sam didn't materialize.

"Then what?" Jody was asking. To Maggie, it sounded like she was suicidal and begging the man who had bled all over her kitchen table to silence her. "And when?" lacking the fear that Maggie had, she had no qualms about approaching the chair and leaning over Dean's shoulder for a closer look. "Sit still." she tugged on the knot he'd tied in the bandage around his lower left bicep. "Let me see."

"I know better than to ignore an injury." Dean sipped from his mug. She lowered her head, took a sniff and whisked the mug from his hands. "Hey!" he protested. "Gimme that back."

"It's 9:30 in the morning." she chided as she walked over to the coffee pot and poured a fresh mug. "Milk?"

"Black." he had yet to wipe the scowl from his face. "Don't you ever go to work?"

She gave his shoulder a pat with a soft chuckle. "Yeah, see the thing about being the boss? Make my own hours. You want some breakfast? Eggs? Pancakes? Make you an omelet?"

He took the mug of coffee with a shrug. "Not hungry, thanks."

"You? Not hungry?" her palm was against his forehead before he could react. "Wow, Sam said it was allergies…."

"What the…" he pulled back, swatting at her arm with his free hand, the other unwilling to risk her taking his mug of coffee a second time. "Sheriff, back off." he growled, face flushing with irritation when she gave his ear a sharp tug in reprimand for growling at her.

"How long have you had that cut on your arm Dean?" she pulled a chair around the table and sat down next to him, reaching for his hand as she spoke. "Did you clean it?" she eyed the various supplies strewn atop her kitchen table. "Ok, obviously you did, but….."

"It's not infected. I wouldn't let it get that way." he pushed his chair back and rose from the table, she rose with him. He waited, expecting her to step back and let him pass but she stood her ground. In fact, she crossed her arms over her chest and stared him down. Weary green eyes warred with determined brown ones and with a curse, he sat back down.

"Now." she sat as well, took his left hand and pulled his arm out straight. "May I see?"

"Would it matter if I say no?" he let her unwrap the bandage from his arm he'd just put on. "Jee-suzh, have a care woman!" he jerked when she yanked the gauze from the wound. "OW!"

"Don't be a baby. What do you think Maggie?"

"You poke me with a finger and I'll….." his growled threat kept Maggie routed to her spot but Jody waved her closer.

"You'll what? Now, you…shush." she scolded. "What do you think Maggie?" she repeated. She looked up but she saw no one and all she heard was the closing of a door.

"Now, see what you've done!" Jody bopped him atop his head with a rolled up bandage. "You went and scared poor Maggie."

"Who is she?"

"My mother-in-law." Jody shook her head. Maggie would be alright, she'd calm down, regroup and come out on her own. "So..this here cut, I'd say a day or so old. Something very sharp and looks deep."

"Yeah."

"You don't seem to be in a lot of pain, course, you handle it so well but still, I don't think you severed any muscle or did any internal damage. And you're right, you kept the wound clean, but it bleeds without pressure applied…you need stitches. Will heal quicker and prevent the ongoing threat of infection. Probably wouldn't hurt to get a tetanus shot."

"FINE!" Dean raised his head and jerked his arm away from Jody's grasp. "Go ahead, stitch." he muttered, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. "And I just had a tetanus shot."

"Okay." Jody gave Dean's knee a pat. "Yeah, see…no…..you sure? You tend to get, um…well violent when you're in pain and the person who's causing it isn't Sam. Besides, he's better at stitching then I'll ever be, will leave less of a scar."

"What's one more?" Dean let his eyes close. "It doesn't need stitches anyway."

"When did you do that? How? With what?" Jody pushed. "Why didn't you tell Sam?" she paused. "Mom? You okay? What are you doing?"

"Peeing!" she yelled back with a huff.

"Just do it Jody, won't matter, he knows and he won't be back until late tonight."

"He left you here?" came a wail of indignation from the bathroom. "He…..he's gone?" well, she'd just see about that! Yessiree, she'd march herself right down that there hallway and pound on that bedroom door and repeatedly call his name and if he knew what was good for him, he'd answer her. She fumed as she strode out the door and down the hallway, hand raised to knock and stomped her foot in lieu of the childish tantrum she wanted to throw. Well...shoot...no, no Maggie, not a good choice of words, no need to go giving anyone any ideas.

"You've never seen me sew and you don't want to. You promise to behave and Maggie'll sew it up."

"I'll do WHAT?" ire at Sam and fear were forgotten. "I will do no such thing Mrs. Owen Mills!" she turned and marched herself right back into the kitchen, bathrobe flapping, hand waving her slipper in front of her lest she encounter some obstacle. "Now see here...!"

Dean didn't move or say anything in response, keeping his eyes on the table. He'd expected to be questioned about Sam's whereabouts and that he wasn't, told him Sam had notified her he was leaving. He may have neglected to tell her for how long, but he had let her know he was leaving Dean with her while he went off to do…something.

"Yeah, no, that's ok…it's fine Sheriff, I'm…..it doesn't need stitches, but thanks."

Maggie gnawed on her knuckle. Now, why'd he have to go and say that in that tone? That small, vulnerable voice with a sigh, like he'd expected her rejection?

"Not even going to ask what hurt you." Jody said. "And Sam might know but I doubt you told him it was bad enough it required stitches, which…wanna tell me how much blood you've lost?'

"Lemme alone."

"You'll need to drink, you have a history of dehydrating after loss of blood." Jody rose from her chair and leaned across the table. "Stick out your tongue."

"I was trying to but you took it away from me, so guessin you ain't talkin about Jim or Jack or even Grandad." Dean said tiredly, then. "How would you know anyway?"

"Sam, of course and you get to drink OJ." Jody said cheerfully. "Relax, I won't make you eat anything just yet." she went over to the fridge and opened the door. "Gotta run out to the garage and get some juice, you don't move, you hear me? Less you pass out and fall to the floor you'd better be right where you are when I get back." she detoured to snag the cordless phone then walked out to the garage, dialing as she walked. Voicemail. "Sam? Dunno know where you are but Dean sliced his arm open somehow and I doubt he told you it was bad enough it needed stitching. Just wanted to let you know. See you when you get back." she didn't ask him to call, didn't expect to hear back from him. Whatever job he'd left to do would come first. He'd left Dean with her and he'd expect her to deal with whatever issues arose without his help. Still, she thought he should know. Were it her son or husband or brother, she'd want to know.

Jody returned to the kitchen and poured a glass of orange juice. She knew Dean most likely would give her grief over drinking it, would probably be more willing to do so if she added vodka, but the purpose of drinking OJ to begin with wasn't to further dehydrate him.

"Stick out your tongue." she ordered setting two glasses, one with OJ, the other with water on the table.

"Why?"

"Uh, hello? Your habit of dehydrating on me when you've lost blood?"

"Habit? On you? Once, maybe and how is my tongue is gonna tell you that?"

"Stick it out or be wrestled to the floor and have your mouth pried open."

Dean couldn't hold back his grin at the thought of the 5'4, 105 pound Sheriff wrestling him into anything. Even at his weakest, he'd still be able to best her.

"I doubt you'd hit a Sheriff or an old lady in your attempt to get the best of us." she grinned. "Course, were Sam here…"

She had him there. With the way he was feeling, were Sam there, he'd probably be able to pin him down and if he had the added help of the pint-sized law official, there'd be no doubt of his success. But Sam wasn't there, was out-of-town and wouldn't be back until late that night, midnight at the earliest. "You know, the threat of Sam gets old." he made to get up but she stilled his motion by a hand to his bicep. She knew better than to reach for his hand or attempt to restrain him by the shoulder. "I'm fine."

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked with a gentle chuckle. "Now stick it out." she waited for the usual joke to follow, the suggestive waggling of his eyebrows, the leering look as he rose to her playful teasing but all she got was a rubbing of his eyes and a tired sigh as he obediently opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out at her. "Thought so." she knew from a prior experience when Sam had been with them, a white tongue was from a combination of alcohol and dehydration.

"I'm not waiting for Sam, if you insist I need stitches and won't do it, guess I'll have to." the weariness was evident in his voice. "It's the only way you're gonna give me any peace."

"What the….? Dean! Wait, I don't think that's a good idea."

He shrugged, shaking her hand from his arm and getting to his feet as he swiped the bottle of whiskey from the counter. "I'll manage, always do."

"Fine, but you don't have to. Sam's coming back…."

"So, you called him." Dean took a swig from the bottle. "And no, he's not. Don't matter, dental floss, fishing string, whatever's available."

"Not here, Good Lord Dean, I have a first aid kit, a medical one, there's a suture kit in it." Jody shook her head. "And yes, he is."

"Maybe, but not today and we got 'em too. You, aah, kinda acquire things, you know?" he glanced down as the warmth of blood seepage blossomed down his arm and reached for a towel. He caught her scowl and shake of her head, translated it to; 'good kitchen towel not acceptable to staunch flow of blood if limb not severed' and dropped the towel, going over to the table to retrieve a rag from the midst of his pile of bandages and gauze. "Never even bled through."

"Cause you tied it tight enough to cut off circulation." Jody said dryly. Dean wiggled his fingers, perhaps they were purplish-blue but they weren't tingly and he had free movement. "I know what Sam would have to say."

"Man, you sure do have a hang up with obeying Sam's orders, don't you?"

"What makes you say that?" her tone was casual but she was smirking, having been caught out. "Wouldn't say his orders, more like….maybe his suggestions."

"Which were to keep me here and to call him when I woke up."

"Pretty much, yup."

Dean didn't say anything, concentrating on protecting his bottle from Jody's grabby hands. He was gonna need the whole bottle. Sure, Sam may be expecting a call telling him how Dean had felt upon awakening but he was in no way expecting a call telling him that his brother required stitches. He was expecting to hear whether or not the dissolvable tablets he'd forced into Dean's mouth before leaving had any positive effect. Sam hadn't been aware the injury was as bad as it was and he would have preferred to keep it that way. Had it not been for Mother Hen and her accompanying chick, he would have been able to do so.

And really, the injury wasn't all that serious. Duct tape in lieu of a bandage worked just fine, they'd made do with less. It was nothing a man would make a fuss over. Yet let a woman become involved and they would have Sam convinced his arm had nearly been severed. They would lead Sam to believe that their patient would only be well when they had him laying down, tucked in bed with ice and pillows, accompanied by comforting smiles and reassuring pats. They wouldn't be satisfied until they'd subdued him with their eagerness to see him comfortable and fed pain relievers while keeping him under observation for signs of fever and infection.

Sam would be speeding all the way back to be with him when there was no need for Sam to return at all. He would be all hurt and miffed because Dean had kept it from him and full of guilt and remorse that he had taken Dean at his word and not pushed further. Would be clinging and fussing for the next month, allergies or not, because he'd gone and left Dean alone while bleeding and in pain with the injury untreated by Sam's expertise. After all, if one were to listen to Sam, he was the only person capable of taking care of his brother. Damn nosy, interfering, if well-meaning females anyway.

"Wanna lie down?" Jody was saying, recalling his wandering attention.

"For what?"

She set a first aid kit on the table, opened it and rooted through it. "Fishing string and dental floss….of all the stupid….men will do any…." she muttered under her breath as she selected the items she wanted. "It might be easier for her."

"Jody, you are out of your mind!." Maggie stated. "I cannot stitch that…."

"Sure you can!" Jody bantered back easily. "You know how to sew." she grinned at Dean. "Damn good hearing, wouldn't you say?"

"I heard that!"

"Maggie, please?" she waited, Maggie edged closer, stooping to return her slipper to her foot. "What do you think? You're an excellent sewer."

"Yes, yes I am. On_ material_ Jody!" she stressed with a hiss.

"You're going to make him do it himself?" Jody raised an eyebrow. "You raised 5 boys, have seen broken bones, split skin, you know when a cut requires stitching…this does…..so…." she held the suture kit out to Maggie. "Sew."

"I know it requires stitching." she pushed the kit back towards Jody. "But I can't do it. Just the thought of poking a needle through human skin…." she shuddered.

"For Christ sake." Dean grabbed the plastic bag. "Women."

"Gimme that." Jody snatched the bag back. "Just pretend it's really thick material….you are not a squeamish woman Maggie, the sight of blood does not bother you. He'll behave, you won't hear a peep outta him. Hell, I doubt he'll even flinch….now sew."

Maggie chewed on her lip, eyes never leaving Dean. When she looked, truly looked, she saw past the defensive wall the man kept erected. A man, an age as one of her sons, who was tired, weary, exhausted, beaten, but not broken by a life that was unfair and unrelenting. A man, who for all his bluster and airs, was vulnerable and fighting through whatever problem he'd been dealt, alone. He would do what needed to be done because he always had, because it was all he knew. Would expect no aide, no help, no comfort nor would he seek it. Treating this man as if she feared him was what he expected. His coping defense was to keep everyone at arm's length less he should find himself in a situation he couldn't control.

"Fine." she kicked a chair out. As long as Jody remained a barrier between them, and he didn't growl, bare his teeth or curl his lip at her, she supposed she could manage a stitch or two. "Sit down." needle and thread was needle and thread and the material was inconsequential. The problem that made her stomach churn was her patient was bound to wince and flinch and jerk and hiss, would probably end up cursing her out and she didn't want to put herself through that. This particular patient would flash those damn green eyes at her and she would recall how he'd appeared last night. The wayward hair, bloodshot, watery eyes, the steady hand aiming a gun at her. "Let me wash my hands…..are there gloves in that kit Jody?"

He sat and obligingly stretched his arm out. He remained still and quiet while Jody applied pressure to slow the flow of blood. He didn't move when he watched her thread the needle, didn't tense when she pinched the edges of the wound together, didn't protest when she carefully and gently prodded and poked the wound with first the needle then her gloved finger, seeking both depth of the cut and any foreign object that might remained imbedded.

"Well, you certainly know how to cleanse a wound." Maggie adjusted her glasses. "Ready?"

Three stitches in, she forgot all about her patients reaction making her nervous. The boy, she no longer thought of him as a man, didn't move or make a sound. Just sat and watched her deftly sew the gash on his bicep together with small, neat, firm stitches that totaled seventeen. He didn't move until she tied off the last stitch then obligingly raised his arm so she could wrap a bandage around it.

"Want some ice? Might swell a bit, ice helps. Always restricted my kid to the sofa with ice packs for a day or two after getting stitches." Maggie said.

"Thanks." he said quietly, reaching for his bottle and handed another glass of OJ by Jody. That produced his first scowl of discontent. "Sheriff…"

"Why don't you go lay back down for a while?" Jody suggested as she began to clean up. She didn't say anything but she had her suspicions that he was running a slight fever. The telltale symptoms were there. "I'll get you up for lunch." she removed an ice pack from the freezer and tossed it at him.

Dean shrugged. Why not? He had nowhere to go, nothing to do and a day to waste. It appeared that as long as he remained indoors, he wasn't besieged by allergies and the Sheriff's house represented as much safety as he was likely to get. Who knew? Maybe by lunch he'd feel like eating and if he couldn't sleep, there was a TV with cable in his room. He left the kitchen with a scowl, an ice pack and a glass of orange juice, his bottle having been once again plucked from his hand.


	3. Chapter 3

***I've lost my medical advisor/proof reader/idea suggester (is that a word?) again.

Anyway, thanks ya'll, and bear with me over any medical or factual inaccuracies.

Be patient, after this chapter, Sam is coming, honest! I promise.

* * *

"Mrs. Snyder is taking you to the Y this afternoon for water aerobics right?" Jody asked. "I'll pick you up, we'll go out to dinner then go over to Doug and Julie's for cards…what?" she was in her uniform, keys in hand, ready to walk out the door to go to work. "Maggie?"

"You're going to work?" Maggie asked, tone implying she was horrified at the very thought. "_Today_?"

"Yes, for a couple of hours, I told you I'd take some time off while you were here but that I…."

"I meant, what about Dean?" Maggie demanded incredulously. "Are you just going to leave him here? Alone?" she licked her lips. "With me?"

"He's not going to bother you Maggie, if he's hungry later, he'll make himself some soup or a sandwich, you won't have to worry about him….go to your class…."

"Jody, you cannot be serious…..I...he just...did you see?" she blew her breath out in frustration. "He just sat there Jody, didn't flinch...not even a wince. No one does that, no one."

"Mom." Jody took her hand. "Dean's a dangerous man, remember?" she smiled. "He is not like other men. A mere slice on the arm is not going to render him incapacitated. He doesn't expect coddling and wouldn't know what to do if we were to try. Forget about him…go enjoy your day. I'll pick you up at the Y at 5 o'clock." she gave the older woman's cheek a kiss and left for work which was where she was when Sam returned her call.

"Sam? Hey there kiddo, what's up?"

"Hey Jody, everything ok?"

"Yes, yes, Dean's fine."

"He led me to believe it was no big deal and I was too distracted to question him further. I know better, he always blows me off and usually I push at him, but I wanted to finish this job and…" he sighed. "Won't happen again, I'll finish up here, grab something to eat and head back…."

"Don't hurry back on his account, he's fine…"

"He stitch himself up?"

"No, he let Maggie do it and really Sam, the way you say that so casually, like it's a normal occurrence and you expect it, is not right."

"Huh, well ok, guess I won't tell you that it is then. So…guess he's been sleeping?"

"Well, I'm at work, but he was laying down when I left." Jody paused. "It's after 4 Sam, you have to be tired, why don't you get a motel room, get some sleep and take your time driving back tomorrow?"

"You want him to sleep…..play a radio or leave the TV on in the room, he doesn't do well in total silence and the noises at your house aren't all that familiar to him." Sam said. "I dunno, we'll see how tired I feel after I get something to eat."

"Maggie said he was watching TV earlier. Did you ever get him to take the Alavert? Maybe it's because he hasn't been outside all day but he doesn't seem to be suffering from allergies too much today."

"Yeah, he took some before I left this morning, guess we'll see when he has to go outside how well it works." Sam paused then laughed. "He's home with Maggie? Huh, didn't think she'd be ok with that."

"Well, to tell you the truth, it's probably a good thing he has a day or two to stay in bed and get some rest. He doesn't want me hovering but I still say staying in bed is the best thing to do for a fever."

"Wow, he must feel like shit cause usually, any female willing to play nurse is someone he takes shameless advantage of….wait, what? A fever? You serious?"

"It's a guess, but yeah, the flushed cheeks and glassy eyes are telltale symptoms. He didn't want much to eat either, said he wasn't all that hungry and didn't really throw much of a fuss when I took his favorite bottle away from him and gave him juice instead. He's slightly dehydrated, was nearly a war to get him to stick his tongue out at me. See? I do listen to you, I remember the signs you told me to look out for and I remember you don't like him to have alcohol when he's lost blood, course we don't know how much he lost, he's not exactly talkative, you know? I tell you, prying anything out of that man…"

"JESUS CHRIST Jody!" Sam exploded. "What the hell is your definition of ok? Fevers and dehydration and stitches _are not_ in the definition of ok!"

"He is fine Sam, he's coherent and alert, just tired…well, he'd probably feel a lot better if he'd take some Tylenol but…."

"NO!" Sam shouted in alarm. "No! no…..hell Jody, I'm sorry, but no Tylenol, please, don't give him any Tylenol, give him aspirin….how bad was it?"

"Maggie seems to think the only way he kept it from bleeding was bandaging it tight enough to cut off circulation. His hand would have been numb Sam, you didn't notice that?"

"He's a master at deception Jody." Sam defended himself even though he knew, at best, he'd been inattentive. "What he can fight through and hide is levels and layers that I hafta try to see through, you know?"

"Guess, okay, well then, guess it's ibuprofen….so, you're driving back then?"

"Should be back by midnight….Jody, if…..if…."

"I'll call you if he gets worse…be careful driving, you sound exhausted."

"Yeah, well long day and haven't slept much these past couple nights…..thanks Jody."

Jody hung up and turned her thoughts to work. There wasn't anything she could do for Sam and Dean was currently under the watchful eye of Maggie, who had completely changed their plans. Maggie had called to inform her she'd cancelled her trip to the Y and their date to play cards at Doug and Julie's because she hadn't felt it was right to leave Dean home alone while 'sick and injured'.

Jody smiled, imagining Dean home with Maggie hovering about as she did what women did to take care of their man. She frowned a bit, thinking perhaps she should call Sam back and ask him what might tempt Dean into eating. No, no, not a good idea. No need to further stress Sam out or cause him to have fits of panic. If she told him Dean wasn't eating at all, nothing would stop him from driving straight back to her house as fast as he could push the car. She didn't think that was a wise thing to do in his current exhausted state. She'd be home by six, she'd see then if she could get Dean to eat.

"Jody? Don't you have Tylenol?" Maggie called out from the master bathroom as she heard Jody enter her bedroom. "Or is it in the hallway bathroom?"

"Tylenol? For what?" Jody popped her head around the door. "Let's see, there's aspirin and ibuprofen…oh…here…." she removed a small bottle of acetaminophen. "Why do you need Tylenol?"

"He's running a fever…not that he's admitted it nor have I mentioned it to him."

"Oh." Jody put the bottle back in the medicine cabinet. "Here, give him the ibuprofen. Sam doesn't want him to have Tylenol."

"And why not? In my opinion, acetaminophen is best for a fever…"

"I don't know Maggie, maybe cause it's bad for the liver? Is he awake?" she turned as she heard the masculine voice coming from the kitchen. "So, he's up?"

"Yeah…." Maggie had spent a good part of her day standing in the doorway of the bedroom, watching him sleep. "Wanted to brush his teeth…ended up taking a shower."

Jody went down the hallway and entered the kitchen, wondering who he was talking to. He was on his cell, making a sandwich, propping the phone on his shoulder, arguing with who could only be Sam.

"I'm fine…if you need to take another night, go ahead….then what are you saying? No, no…..hell no..What? Do you want me to…..I know you have the car….I can either take the Sheriff's or…..then what do you want? I'm making a sandwich! Because I'm hungry…..that's why! Why else would a man make…..now what? What? It's turkey and cheese. No…..whatever….yeah…ok, fine." he lifted his head and let the phone drop to the counter where he spared a finger to end the call. "God-damn pain in the freaking ass."

"Hey, you're up." Jody greeted. "Have a seat, I'll make you a sandwich."

"I got it." he have her a cheeky grin. "Maggie offered but I know just how I like it…did you bring home any pie?" he eyed the brown grocery bags on the counter hopefully.

"Feeling better then?"

"Felt fine before….."

"How's the arm feel?"

"Little sore, but ok…."

"Was that Sam? He not coming back tonight?"

"He's on his way…..gonna pull off the road for a nap….but he'll drive on…he's not that far out anyway, three-hour drive or so is all."

"Are you leaving to meet him?" so much for Sam being back by midnight. Knowing him as well as she did, she knew he'd set the alarm on his phone to allow himself an hour of sleep then be back on the road and arrive at her house by ten.

"God no." Dean snorted. "I had to promise to remain here, under your supervision and obey your every word so he would pull over and get some sleep. He gets it in his head I left here and we'll have to unwrap him from the telephone pole he collides with." he gave both women a glare of suspicion. "Seems somehow, he's under the impression I'm not feeling as fine as I told him I was."

"Huh, I don't know what you're talking about." Jody said innocently. "Maggie? Have you spoken with Sam today?"

"No, I haven't."

"I told him you got stitches." Jody admitted, buckling under as Dean's eyebrows narrowed. "That you might be slightly dehydrated…what? You expect me to lie to him? I told him there was no need to hurry back, that you were fine."

"Uh-huh."

"How are the allergies? Looking better."

"Haven't been outside today."

"Want some soup? Potato maybe?"

"Sure." he sat down at the table. "You ladies going out tonight? Big plans?"

"We were suppose to go play cards…..but….." she cast a glance Maggie's way that had her turning her face away in feigned nonchalance. "It appears our plans changed, we'll be staying in tonight."

"We can play cards here." Maggie suggested.

"You didn't invite Doug and Julie here!" Jody squeaked in alarm, mind racing as she scrambled to come up with excuses to make to her friends about why they weren't welcome in her home.

"No, I did not." she huffed. "Good heavens Jody….."

She breathed out in a rush of relief. Hiding Dean in his room the entire time her company would be over would be impossible to do. Explaining his presence along with his tendency to pounce first, gun in hand and never ask questions wouldn't be able be explainable at all.

"Lend me your car, I'll make myself scarce for a while." Dean offered. "I like the bar over off Main Street. I promise I'll be back in a couple of hours, that way you won't get into trouble with Sam."

"I don't think so." Jody shook her head. "My luck, you'll lose track of time, meet some willing woman, go home with her and leave me to explain to Sam that, not only did I allow you go to out, I also have no idea where you are."

"Yeah, yeah, you're right, not such a good idea." Dean agreed. "I'll be a good boy, I'll stay in my room and watch TV."

"No need, we'll order a movie from On-Demand." Jody said. "You can either join us or stay in your room but those are your only options, okay?"

***()()()()()()***

"Aren't you going to take that away from him?" Maggie asked in a hushed whisper

"Me? Oh, I don't think so." Jody whispered back. "Are you nuts?"

"Maybe so. Call me what you want, but that man sleeping with a loaded gun in one hand and a freaking cleaver in the other is spelling out trouble."

"You take it away from him." Jody said. "Best to just let him be Maggie, least he's finally asleep."

"ME?"

"Well, I'm not going to do it."

"Jesus Christ Jody! His brother marched right up to him while he was stoned on meds and plucked the gun right outta his hand! You manhandled the man in your kitchen, bossing him around, yelling at him…...bullying him into giving up the bottle of whiskey and sitting still while I stitched up his arm and now you're telling me you're afraid of him?"

"That was Sam. I don't recommend anyone else trying it. And he was awake and cognizant when I talked to him in the kitchen. I'm not about to poke a sleeping bear, especially one who is armed and on any day, dangerous." she shook her head. "No, nuh-huh, leave him be."

"Are you saying you're scared of him?" Maggie whispered in disbelief.

"When he's asleep, under the influence of medication and possibly feverish? Hell yes." she paused. "Well, not of him, more like what he's capable of doing if he feels threatened."

"Then why the hell is he still here and why the hell did his keeper leave him?"

"Sam? He's on his way back."

Maggie chewed on her lip. There was no mistaking the look of fondness on her daughters face. She didn't know what to say or do. That morning when she'd learned Sam had left, leaving Dean behind, she'd nearly packed her bags and moved to a hotel. But then she'd encountered Dean in the kitchen, saw him tending to his own injury, heard him say how he stitched his own wounds and with what. She'd seen him remain still and not utter a sound while she passed a needle through layers of his skin some seventeen times. She'd watched him sleep, had ventured into the room to toss an afghan over him when she suspected he was cold. Now, here they were, Dean no longer looking so menacing and she having lost her initial reserve where he was regarded; no longer feeling threatened or even intimidated.

"He can't be comfortable sleeping like that." Maggie said finally. The man whose appearance the prior night had caused her to shake in her shoes now looked so young and vulnerable she could no longer subdue her nurturing nature.

"Doubt he's asleep." Jody commented. "He probably snuck a bottle in here and passed out."

"Jody, this is your home and I would never tell you who to welcome here." sure, just when she was starting to feel comfortable around him, Jody comes home and scares the daylights out of her all over again. "Sam seems like a nice kid…..but this one? Not a kid Jody."

"Aww, he's not so bad Maggie. When he's on his feet and not hurt or sick, he's full of wit…oozes charm….has a grin that would melt your heart. Has a glib tongue that can sweet talk anyone….."

Dean knew he should let them know he was neither asleep nor passed out; that he heard the two women talking and understood what they were saying but he couldn't bring himself to do it. It felt….peaceful to lay there and listen to them chatter on about his comfort and well-being. He'd never had that before, no one to care if he was warm and comfortable and safe. Well, there'd been Lisa but he sure as hell hadn't been sane nor had he been capable of accepting or appreciating any attempts of comfort she'd offered.

Oh sure, there was Sam who would check to make sure he was breathing before going to bed, but it was nowhere near the same. Had Sam ever popped his head around the door to see if he slept? Had Sam ever lingered in a doorway to watch him sleep? Had Sam ever taken notice that the reason his brother was uneasy and not sleeping soundly was because he was cold and then bring him an afghan? Jody and Maggie were like Mom and Grama or sister and mom or…..did it matter?

"I don't know Jody. I know you trust them, him…them, I mean you must…to let them have free run of your home…but how much about them do you really know? That there is a man who has known no security or comfort and love from safety. That is a man who has survived on his wits and basic human instinct. Whoever raised him did him…. I mean, his mother?….their mother, did him no favors….."

"No one did." Jody said softly. She knew more about the brothers then they thought she did. More about their upbringing and life then they'd wish her to know. They'd be mortified and would perish from embarrassment if they knew just how much she'd been made privy to. Good ole Bobby Singer was a difficult man to get drunk but he'd managed to accomplish the feat all on his own. She hadn't taken advantage of him in that state either, he'd shown up at her door, drowning in guilt and depression, with his tongue flowing fast and loose and free. She hadn't been able to shut him up.

"Someone had to Jody, kids don't raise themselves."

"Well, if you put it that way, I guess their father provided the money to put clothes on their backs, food in their bellies and a roof over their heads, but nothing was ever consistent. Sam is more adjusted than Dean because Dean provided him with everything he ever needed, even if it meant Dean went without."

"There can't be that big an age difference between them."

"Four years." Jody supplied. "Dean raised Sam, no doubt about it, their mother died when Dean was four, Sam only six months. They've more or less been on their own ever since. There were family friends; Bobby, a Pastor, but they basically raised themselves. Being provided for monetarily doesn't include comfort, stability, security, safety, normalcy."

"Jody, that's awful….what kind of man would raise his kids that way?"

"One who didn't really have a choice or know better. Their lives are complicated…and yes, I trust them. I trust them with my life, with yours, with everyone's in this town. When all that trouble happened and Owen was killed, they were the ones who helped me….save this town…if they'd gotten here sooner, Owen would still be alive."

"But Jody, he's….he's on the edge and anything could push him off. How the hell is he hanging on to his sanity? Can't you see he…..he drinks to exist?…I mean, who the hell sits still without so much as a wince while a needle pushes through their skin? Who does that Jody? How does he manage to get up in the morning? How do you live like that?"

"Wow, spent one day with him while he slept and here you are, champion of Dean Winchester." Jody teased. "Come on, standing here is going to wake him up, let's go get a snack."

"Take those weapons away from him." Maggie ordered. "He should feel safe here, I can't be at ease knowing he could roll over and blow his head off or gut himself."

"That's not going to happen." Jody smiled then stepped into the room and slowly approached the bed. "Hey Dean, just me, Sheriff Mills, how about you let me have this? Mmmm?" she gingerly touched his wrist that held the blade and tugged the handle from his grasp. He held tight for a moment then let her have it with a soft murmur of protest, rubbing his cheek against the pillow. "Yeah, big guy I know. I'll set it over here okay? You open your eyes, you'll see it. Now, the gun." she eased his finger off the trigger, relieved to find he at least had the safety on, wondered where he'd gotten it when to her knowledge, Sam had taken it away from him. When he allowed her to wiggle it lose from his fingers, she pulled it from his hand completely and slid it under his pillow. "Okay…..you sleep." she tiptoed, she didn't know why, from the room and pulled the door half way closed on her way out.

"You left the radio on." Maggie reminded her. "Maybe you should…"

"I know….. come on."


	4. Chapter 4

Sam was dragged to awareness by a persistent, relentless beeping that simply would not stop no matter how many faces he made or how many times he made them. Beep, beep, beep, beep. Steady, even, no faster, no louder, just the same steady beep, beep, beep, beep. Right, alarm on his cell phone.

He moaned, no amount of wishing silenced the annoying sound and by rote, his eyes opened. If he'd learned anything over the years of living on the road, waking in a car, a motel room or some abandoned building he'd taken shelter in, he'd learned not to panic upon awakening or to flail about with a shout. That only served to reveal his location and give whoever or whatever that might be an immediate threat a heads up and the advantage.

Sitting up and rubbing his eyes, he reached for the offensive device on the dashboard and pulled a Dean; he rolled the window down, extended his arm and tossed the phone out of the car. The fuzzy cloud that hovered over him was gradually clearing, revealing his reason for pulling over hadn't abated. He'd been heading back to Sioux Falls when the weather, combined with his weariness, gave him such a pounding headache that he'd thought it best to pull over and see if he could sleep it off.

The seat was reclined back and he relaxed, no harm in taking another hour or so to sleep, everyone wanted him to wait until morning to continue the drive back anyway. He'd simply call… wait, what the hell was _that_ sound now? His sleep befuddled brain finally identified the steady beat hitting the roof, the hood, the windshield, as rain. Heavy, pouring, rain that he'd thrown his cell phone into, the same phone he would need if he wanted to make any calls.

Well, fuck! Throwing open the door, he bolted from the car to retrieve it before the rain could do it any damage. Soon as his feet landed in the mud, he felt the wind and the cold air. By the time he'd snatched his phone out of the mud and retreated back to the safety of the car, he was soaked and the cuffs of his jeans had dragged in the mud.

He sat shivering, not yet of clear thought to reach into the back seat for a towel or blanket or discarded shirt to dry his hair. He frowned, squinting at the steering wheel, was it blurry? Man, his head hurt, had he hit it when Mortimer had taken exception to his casket being hacked open? He couldn't recall doing so, but then… could have happened.

Great, just freaking great. A quick check revealed the phone was functioning so he pulled the seat upright and reached to turn the key that was in the ignition. Dean had an uncanny ability to steal a car with the keys either in the ignition or easily found under the floor mat or over the visor. They may have to hot wire a car now and again but Dean was able to keep it running. Dean, not Sam and this latest car had given them fits over whether it intended to start.

"Please." he breathed. He didn't pray or bargain or promise or make a deal often. Wouldn't do any good; their luck was iffy and spotty, if they ever had any at all. He turned the key, the car spluttered but the engine-turned over and he pulled out, heading towards the general-type store whose parking lot he'd parked at the end of. Grab something to eat, dry off, wash up, see how he felt, then call Jody and give her his decision on what he planned to do.

The rain blurred the world outside the windshield and trying to force his eyes to focus made him want to heave but by gritting his teeth and breathing through the pain that flared down the back of his neck and across his shoulders he was able to drive up to the store. It had better be open, if it wasn't, he would break in, he needed something to eat. He'd stopped for dinner before leaving town but he hadn't been all that hungry. Huh, maybe he had hit his head.

Migraine? He was stressed, exhausted, angry at Dean, mad at Jody, pissed at the world. He wasn't worried, nope, not going to admit to that emotion. Tense? Hell yes. Anxious? Yeah, okay, sure. Separation anxiety? He wasn't going that far! He had migraine meds, courtesy of Dean, where'd he'd gotten them and how he'd paid for them was something Sam had never asked. He was just grateful to have the nasal spray. However, he was reluctant to take it for it made him slow and sluggish and sleepy and when he did take it, Dean was around. He knew it would be safe to take it only if he made the decision not to drive on.

Maybe something to eat and some more coffee would help. He wasn't stupid, common sense told him to find the nearest motel and park it for the night. He could use the sleep, the hour nap not enough and though he believed Jody that Dean was fine, he hadn't expected to hear his brother had received stitches, might be running a fever, had willingly remained in bed the entire day and hadn't wanted to eat. Dean refuse food? Even suffering the worst symptoms of the allergies hadn't affected his appetite.

His thoughts were scattered as he parked the car and walked into the store but his decision was made. The rain, the weather itself, didn't really bother him, but coupled with exhaustion and pain, it would make his progress back to Sioux Falls slower but he wasn't going to let it deter him, he'd driven in worse. If his headache got worse or he felt sick, he'd find a motel, take the meds and drive back when he felt better.

Sam was neither blind nor oblivious; he knew what he'd put Dean through this last year and a half. Too much was between them, too many things not yet discussed, too much left unsaid, the air not yet cleared, what he, _erhm_, his other self had done, his snit fit, all that had gone down with Cas, god, the list never ended. And fuck, who was he kidding? Admit it you wimp, he taunted himself, your headache is indeed separation anxiety.

"Sam? Sam Winchester? My word! It _is_ you!"

Sam picked the bottle of liquid allergy medication up from the shelf with one hand while the other carefully eased under his shirt and around his back to grip the comforting handle of his .9mm. He turned slowly, body language spelling out nonchalance to anyone looking his way. A girl, woman really, near his own age stood looking at him expectantly, smiling happily, her face aglow with happiness and certain knowledge that she was known.

"Wow, of all places to run into you, whoever would have thought it'd be in some mountain resort town! So? You here on vacation? Are you at a hotel, the campground or did you rent a cabin? Are you here alone? Are you with someone? I don't see anyone else in the store."

"Aaah, yeah." he sent his mind off in a couple different directions. One path dedicated to remembering who the hell she was and recalling how she knew him, another path searching for a reasonable explanation why he was in a general store on a rarely used road in the middle of nowhere and yet another to following her rapid speech. "Just …..ahh, so….just on my way….." he did not know this girl, had never seen her before in his life. "Home." he finished lamely.

"Kinda lost track of you after school. You took that semester off after Jess died, gosh what a tragedy, to have died so young and in such a horrible way, but you never came back. No one really knew whatever happened to you. So, married?" she chattered on, reaching out to squeeze his arm in a gesture of familiarity, like she had always done it and he had always accepted the touch. By the look on her face, she expected him to return the gesture, her smile faltering briefly when he didn't.

"What?" ok, college, she knew him from college and he roped in his wandering mind and cast it in a new direction. She knew Jess so he started a mental checklist of their common friends. Somehow, despite the fact he was soaked with his wet hair hanging in his face which showed several says of scruff and being 7 years older, this girl recognized him.

"So then, kids? How old? How many? I see you're buying children's Benadryl. We have two, boy and girl, Petey is eight and Molly is six. I find that Zyrtec works the best. It's chewable and grape flavored. It's so good to see you and great that you got past losing Jess. You have, haven't you? So, where have you been? What have you been up to? You did finish school, didn't you? Did you graduate law school then?"

Sam looked down at the box he held in his hand, he hadn't realized the box he'd picked up was for children. Dean didn't do well with DPH, it flipped him out of his mind and Sam doubted the first now-drowsy medication he'd given his brother would actually work. Benadryl had eased most of the symptoms but it contained DPH and that knocked Dean on his ass.

"Uh, no, no…not married." god, he wished she would shut up. Did she ever cease talking? Christ.

"Oh, well, so boy or girl?"

"What?" he asked stupidly. Dammit, who the hell was she?

She flashed a grin at him. "Your child, boy or girl?"

"Oh, no..no….aah...no child…..so what brings you here?"

"My husband and I are avid hikers and we're here camping. You don't know him, I met Marcus after graduation. We'll have to do dinner! Do you have a sitter? Perhaps we can leave all the kids with her otherwise we'll have to bring ours with us, kinda young to be left alone in a camper in the middle of the woods, even if it is at a campground, you know? Not really fair to Petey to have to be responsible for his sister either." she chattered on like a freaking magpie. "Oh say, why don't you come back to the camper and meet Marcus! We can make plans to meet for dinner."

His head split into two and he coughed into his hand to hide a moan of pain. No, he didn't know, he'd spent plenty of nights alone without adult supervision. His brother had the responsibility of keeping them both warm, fed, sheltered and safe as well as Sam entertained, amused and contented. Though his brother was older than him, Dean'd only been eight when he'd taken on that responsibility. Had it been right? Had it mattered? Sure, their father had always left them in a motel room or rented apartment with enough money to see them through the time he was gone but everything else had fallen on Dean.

This kid Petey couldn't handle watching his sister for a couple of hours? What kind of wimpy ass kid was this woman raising?

A normal one, his conscious argued. A well-adjusted normal little boy who was living his childhood the way a kid ought to. Not for the first time, Sam wondered what his childhood would have been like without an older brother who had always put his needs and wants first. Of course, that led to the guilt and remorse and shame that he had rarely accounted for Dean's feelings and wants and needs ahead of his own before doing whatever he'd wanted to and then whining and complaining when he didn't get his own way. He wished he could say he'd outgrown that, but alas, he hadn't. There were all those times he'd gotten mad at Dean and left him, had just walked away like Dean hadn't…. and oh,there was that time, _er-times_, he'd said all those things, didn't matter why…and he couldn't forget the time he'd, with his own hands, choked….ENOUGH! Being the reason you lost your brother and knowing where he was suffering tended to slap you in the face. Punched-in-the-gut, kicked-in-the-crotch kind of slap in the face.

"Sam? What do you say? You and Marcus will get along great, he went into law as well, prosecutor. You can follow me back. Oh, are you alone?" she looked around the store. "Someone asleep out in the car? Girlfriend? Of course, she's welcome too."

"Sorry, no…..aah….heading…erhm…out of town now." Sam pushed his hair off his forehead, staggering a step when pain stabbed him behind his right eye. Oh God. "Gotta get home, you know?"

"Oh! I see, not in town with your family, huh? Buddies then? Were you camping? So, hey, where is home these days?"

"Sioux Falls." his head was spinning, she talked rapidly and never waited for an answer before chattering on to the next subject and he was barely keeping up. Good thing she didn't seem to expect an answer for every question she flung at him.

"South Dakota? Wow, never thought you'd land someplace like that. Always thought you'd be in LA or New York, you know? Big city…anyway, is that where your son is? With his mother?"

"My who? Oh no, not my son…..no kids…I really need to get going."

"Well, give me your email, we'll catch up. Do you have to leave now? Come have a cup of coffee?"

There was a time Sam would have done anything to free up his time so he could have an opportunity to spend the day chatting with old friends over a cup of coffee. But now? Now he was still a two-hour drive away from his brother and that was if he maintained 80 on the interstate and stayed off the secondary roads they were wont to travel on. He refused to figure in the weather or how he felt and calculate how that might affect his travel. He was in pain, his eyes were dry and swollen and all the coffee he'd had before pulling off for a nap had done nothing but make him nauseous or maybe that was chatty Cathy. He simply failed to understand how Dean did this, day in and day out. Kept going on caffeine, cat naps, whatever food was available and a need to do what needed done.

Dean. The brother whose ass he was going to kick for having hidden the seriousness of an injury from him and allowing him to believe it was only allergies he suffered from. The brother who had never had allergies and had thrown a reaction to the first over the counter medication Sam had given him. The brother whom Jody suspected was running a fever. The brother who, over the last several months, he found it difficult to be away from. Separating for hours at a time while on a job was fine but anything longer than that and Sam began to get antsy.

He hated leaving his brother alone for any length of time and leaving him overnight took every ounce of self-control Sam had. He hadn't wanted to leave him this time either and he sure as hell hadn't planned on being away overnight, but Dean had been so miserable with allergies, Sam hadn't had the heart to force him along to finish the job he'd just completed. Even if he'd brought Dean with him, he would have had to leave him alone in the motel room while he went to burn the bones. The spirit would have been impossible to get the upper hand on with Dean's sneezing fits.

They'd done the research, solved the case and all that had been left to do was salt and burn the bones of a restless spirit. He hadn't needed Dean for that and when he'd realized they were within a 3 hour drive of Jody's house, he couldn't pass on the opportunity to leave Dean with her while he came and finished the job.

Sam himself was trying to break a habit that, so far, he'd been able to successfully hide from his brother. Ever since he'd regained his memories and Cas had eased the way with his crazies, he'd had a tendency to cling to the only thing he had left. Yeah, that was him, Sam-the-clinger. He was afraid that Dean would go on some suicidal mission if he wasn't there to keep an eye on him and the last thing he'd be able to handle was loosing his brother after everything they'd been through these last years.

"Sam? Sam? Hey, hello? Hi there."

"Oh." he looked back at the woman who was now eying him worriedly. "Sorry, my mind tends to wander."

"Yeah…..so…not married, fiancée maybe?"

"No."

"Seeing anyone? You and Jess were always so close and she died so young. It was all so sad. You were lucky you weren't home. We were all there for you, you know, but you just disappeared."

"Aaah, yeah, yeah…..my brother, he um….came to get me…..was with me through that, uh…..really rough time, it was hard….he…..I went with him, I mean…he took me with him." there it was, right on the tip of his tongue. Most of his friends had offered quiet support, had skittered around the subject of Jessica's death and how he hadn't been home when the fire that had claimed her life had broken out….

"That's right! You had a brother! Dan? Doug? Started with a D didn't it? Do you ever see him? I know you were estranged while at school, but I'm so happy that after losing Jess, he was there for you, you know? Did you call him? You must have, right? Oh! Wait, wait, Jess said he had shown up in the middle of the night and you had left with him…."

Angie. Angela Bryant. It had to be. Angie, who had been part of their group in college because she wouldn't go away. She always had to know everything about everyone. He'd told few people about having a brother. Jessica of course. Rebecca had found out later. But Angie, hell, once she got her teeth into a subject, she never let go. She'd once seen a picture he'd kept in his wallet of when he and Dean had been kids, Sam around the age of six and she hadn't stopped pestering him until he'd admitted that the picture was of him and his brother.

"Always wondered what happened to you." she was saying. "No one knew. Rebecca and Zach said you'd stopped by when Zach was arrested, your brother's a detective, right? Works undercover for the...what law organization was it again? But, oh, you left and didn't keep in touch after that. Come to think of it, Rebecca did say when you went to see her, well, help her, you were with your brother, am I right? But…" she frowned. "I thought….I'm sorry…..didn't your brother….?"

"So, Marcus, your husband, right? A prosecutor huh, what city?" didn't Dean what? Maybe he should have followed up on what Rebecca had told their friends. He fisted his hands to keep himself from massaging his temples. He was expecting to see black dots any time now.

"Chicago." she nodded. "So? How about that coffee?"

"Sorry, I can't." Sam pulled himself together and forced himself to concentrate on getting away from her. "Just passing through on my way home. Had to stop for gas, grab something to eat…"

"Sioux Falls, you said? That's what? About another 2 hours drive? You look tired Sam, you sure you should drive? Let me call Marcus, he can make coffee. You can rest for a bit before continuing on. We so need to catch up! Or do you have someone you need to get back to?"

"I, aah, gotta pick Dean up, get on to our next job…I don't….."

"Dean!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands. "That's his name! He's your brother right? So, you're still with him? But I thought…I mean, didn't he die in….? Wow Sam, really? That's what undercover means, huh? It's been, like 7 years!" she paused, a frown crossing her face. "Guess that explains the….news over the years regarding his…your…so anyway, is he here? I'd love to meet him."

"We went into business together." Sam said evasively. Meet Dean? Aah, no.

"I see." but clearly she didn't, for she looked troubled. "So, you work with the police now? Where was it you finished school?"

"Nice catching up with you Angie, you look great. New hairstyle, huh?"

"You like?" she laughed, tossing her brunette bob about. "Marcus prefers brunettes…so hey, about your em….."

"You folks ready to head out?" a store clerk approached them with an apologetic smile. "Rain ain't letting up anytime soon and with the recent melt up in the hills, the creeks and rivers are already running high...I'm ready to close up and head to high ground."

"Aah, yeah, yeah, I'm good...oh, need to pay for this...so flood warnings? Are they evacuating?" Sam turned away from Angie to walk with the employee to pay for his purchases. Relieved for the interruption so he didn't have to address the awkward issue about not having an email in the age of modern technology to give her. "Just need a moment….." he pointed to the mens room. "Do you mind?"

"Sure, sure, got some time. Yeah, mandatory, where you headed?"

"East."

"You'll be fine though I recommend taking the interstate, next exit is 3 miles or so. Mostly it's the river leading into the lake that has the Rangers worried. They've gone door to door at the rental cabins and went through the campground. Most folks have left."

Sam looked over his shoulder to see where Angie had gotten to, sure enough, she was right at his elbow. Walk away Sam, pay for your purchases, collect your bag, walk out that door, get in your car and floor it. Do not say it, do not speak another word, do not...

"You said you were at the campground?"

"Oh yes! Do you want to come by for coffee then?" she perked up, face glowing with happiness as she clapped her hands and danced about. "The kids will love meeting you!"

Sam closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as the fought for patience. He was too tired to deal with this and it wasn't his problem. Not his _kind_ of problem. He wanted to go home, well to Jody's, cause home was wherever Dean was and….. "Most have left, you say?" shut up Sam, shut the fuck up, take the man's advice, get in your car, hit the interstate and drive.

"Ranger stopped in for coffee, said they're still getting folks out." see Sam? There are Rangers and along with the police, they would get the people to safety. Your kind of expertise is not required. "Storm ain't letting up anytime soon…."

"Well, maybe some other time than Sam." Angie was still smiling happily. "Guess I should go help Marcus with the kids…."

"Ma'am, if you're staying at the campground…you ain't getting back in. Everyone's been evacuated. The lake has flooded. They're going in with boats now to reach those campers near the cliff. Here, let me give you directions to where they're taking everyone. They've set up an emergency shelter at the church."

"What are you saying?" Angie demanded. "Sam? What is he saying?"

"I'll drop you off at the shelter…it's on my way out-of-town."

"You're leaving? You can't go! You can't leave me! Didn't you say you're a police officer? You have to help! Shouldn't you stay and help?"

"Angie, I can't stay, I have to go." he wanted to go, wanted to go home. He was tired, dead-on-his-feet tired and he was wet and cold and…. "Can't you call him?"

"Sam, please." she begged, tears filled her eyes. "You're used to these kinds of situations, right? I mean, in your line of work with the police, I'm not. I'll go to the shelter first, see if Marcus and the kids are there….I'm sure they are."

He didn't recall ever saying he worked with the police, didn't recall what, if anything he'd told her not five minutes ago. With a sigh, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket, no signal. "You got a signal?"

"No." Angie said, echoed by the store clerk who added land lines were down as well.

Great, just great. He was supposed to be home by midnight, expected by ten, when he didn't show and no one heard from him, speculation would begin. Jody would know about the storm. This wasn't her county, not even a neighboring one but she would be monitoring the situation. If a call went out for assistance from additional services, she would send men. Once Dean heard that and didn't hear from him, he would come looking for him and Sam didn't want Dean out in this weather.

Sam snuffled a snort, thumping his forehead against a nearby display rack. Dean knew the state of physical exhaustion he was in, knew where his mental state had been these last months, knew Sam better than Sam knew himself. He would be on the road as soon as he heard what was going on, there was no way Jody would be able to keep the news from him. The only want to prevent Dean from coming after him would be to talk to him and he wasn't able to do that. Great, just great.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam cursed, kicking violently at a buried rock, shoving his wet hair out of his face for the 6th time in less than a minute, cursing the wind, the rain, the wind-driven rain. He stood staring at what had been the campground, land he'd crossed not twenty minutes ago, land that was now completely under water, not even the top of a camper remained visual. No boats were seen and the current from the lake and river water was too strong for the family to swim across. He turned around to eye in distaste the steep incline that led up the slope of a mountainside. The sliding, slippery slope of mud and loose slate that was now their only way out.

He had no clear recollection of how he'd ended up here. His intent had been to drive Angie to the shelter, hit the interstate and go home. But her family hadn't been there and only after she'd begged, pleaded, cried and sobbed had he agreed to attempt to reach the campground. He had expected it to be both a waste of his time and a wasted trip. Cause really, what father would be so stupid to endanger the lives of his children because their mother had instructed him to stay put until she returned?

His eyes fell on the little girl who sat curled up at the base of a massive tree trunk, huddled against what little protection it offered. He wasn't even within touching distance and she was still screaming. He guessed he'd scared her when he'd first arrived or maybe she was still throwing the temper tantrum she'd began at the camper when he'd denied her, her way, had told her no after both her parents had said yes. Whichever, he didn't care. Had she never heard the word no before? And Dean thought Sam had thrown epic temper tantrums? Ha, wait til he met the little monster. What could the little brat do anyway? At worst, bite him, right?

He pushed his hair out of his face, wishing for a band to secure it with, something he'd sworn he'd never, ever, under any circumstances, do. Not since he'd been a kid and woken up to find his hair in dozens of tiny pigtails, courtesy of Dean. Was never a good thing to let Dean become bored. Wasn't a good thing Sam could sleep through anything Dean did to him either. Let a strange voice, noise or smell enter the room and Sam was awake and prepared to fight to the death. Let Dean be the culprit and Sam was dead to the world.

"Angie…..start climbing…." he'd thought he'd be able to carry the girl while Angie climbed on her own and Marcus climbed with the boy but oh no. Apparently, a leisurely stroll around the campground at dusk was Angie's definition of 'avid hiker'. Neither she nor Marcus, who Sam had learned was scared to be outside, had any hiking or climbing equipment and the kids only had flip-flops as foot apparel. Three out of four family members were whining, hysterical hindrances that ensured he'd be taking one up at a time. They'd wasted time arguing with him over what he wouldn't allow them to take. Where the fuck did they expect to put a laptop, a doll, complete with toy baby stroller, and a briefcase the size of a friggin suitcase? "Go."

"Angela." came from behind him.

"Go where?" Angie demanded, looking around as if she expected to see a flight of steps. "Climb what?"

"My wife's name is Angela." Marcus sprouted off as though it mattered, tapping Sam on his shoulder to get his attention. "Not Angie, please stop referring to her by that unacceptable nick-name."

"The hill." were his teeth gritted? His teeth were gritted. He hated it when he gritted his teeth. Gritting his teeth made his head hurt and his head already felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. Really, he shouldn't be doing anything to help it explode.

"Sam, no one can climb that - - that - that is not a hill,….it's a cliff." Angie argued. "A _cliff_ Sam...We shall wait here until….."

"Wait where Angie? Wait for what?" he snapped impatiently. "You can't be that stupid…" what the hell had he been thinking agreeing to come out here with her? He'd expected to arrive at the camper, find it empty and drive out before the river flooded. Even so, he hadn't expected it to flood so fast nor had he thought it would completely engulf the entire camp ground when it did. "Shut up and start climbing."

"HEY!" wimpy-ass Marcus found the courage to voice a protest. "That is my wife, Angela, you are talking to."

"I'm not climbing that hill Sam." she said adamantly. "They will come get us, we just need to wait until..."

"Do you see a camper Angie? A car? Anything?" Sam threw his hands up in exasperation. "You want to swim? How long can you tread water? Can the kids swim?"

"Angela!" piped Marcus.

"We'll climb the tree." Angie patted the trunk of the tree her kids huddled next to. "We'll wait until they come with boats to rescue us."

"How?" Sam had lost all patience and was borderline violent. He didn't want to be here and he could only blame himself that he was and that's what pissed him off. He'd allowed himself to be sucked in by nostalgia and Angie's plight or maybe it'd been the tears and the pleas for his help. Could've been her belief he was some law official that did this for a living or it could have been past ties to a life he'd had with Jess, whatever, he was deeply regretting whatever had brought him to this place. He knew the best medicine for his head was to be home, warm and dry, tucked up in bed, sipping hot tea and watching TV while Dean sneezed and wheezed in the bunk below him. "Go ahead, climb the tree." he snarked. Yup, he'd feel a lot better once he had Dean within his sight. Uh-huh, and he bet his head would cease to hurt too! He could easily, even with how badly his head was hurting, climb that cliff and be off.

"I do not think I like your tone." Marcus continued in his nasal, nerve-grating whine. "There is certainly no need to raise your voice. You are scaring the children."

"Well, I don't think, I know - I don't like _you_." Sam shot back. "You're an ass, a stupid ass." he rounded on the man, forcing him several steps backwards. "Only a dumb fuck would stay in a campground that is mandatorily being evacuated because his wife told him to stay put until she got back!" did the man have to enunciate each and every word? What? Like using contractions would prove an Ivy League educated prosecutor stupid?

"Now see here…." Marcus began. "The river leading into the lake…"

"What about it? It's a piddly stream compared to the river that is FLOODING!" he shouldn't be yelling. Not because it was scaring the kid because he didn't care if he was, but because he was seconds away from toppling face first into the mud. Molly sure had a set of lungs on her, Sam swore she'd yet to stop screaming to inhale her next breath. "If I'd known you were useless, I never would've come out here to help you. I don't want to be here, it's time I've wasted when I want to be somewhere else. Now start climbing or I will leave you here."

"You cannot do that." Marcus argued. "The children are scared and you..."

"Try me..…" he felt his heart lurch as a small hand grabbed hold of his jeans at his knee and gave a slight tug. Okay, fine, he'd take the boy with him. He reached out awkwardly and gave the wet head a reassuring pat.

"Sam...what's wrong with you?" Angie's eyes were huge. "I have to say, I don't like this side of you. Is this your brothers doing? His fault? It is, isn't it? Four years of school and not once did he visit or did you go home. Jess said he was bossy and pushy. He showed up in the middle of the night, dragged you away from school, never let you come back, made you work with him, he...…"

"Angie..." he seethed, interrupted by Marcus correcting him yet again. He felt a vein pop in his head, he wouldn't be surprised if his brain was bleeding. This family was mere minutes away from death by drowning and Angie chose now to chastise him about Dean? Seriously? Her daughter was still screaming and instead of trying to calm the child, she verbally attacked him over choices _he'd_ made, not ones forced on him by Dean. _Really? Seriously?_ He should leave them while he still could. Leave them to realize there was no way to climb that tree and nowhere to wait for rescue. He could toss the kid over his shoulder and - _Christ!_ was she still going on about Dean and the choices he'd forced on Sam?

Sam had never, _never_, in his life cold-clocked a female. Ever. Well, not a mere human anyway. But boy, was he sorely tempted. If one more word came out of her mouth, her teeth would follow. It had only been two years of school. Dean hadn't walked away from him until spring of his sophomore year when Sam had given him the ultimatum: Dean could visit or Sam would meet up with him for breaks and weekends and holidays, but it would be on the condition no hunting was to be involved. Not even discussed. Sam was willing to have Dean in his life but he would not help him with hunting. Dean had chosen and Sam never let himself consider how Dean might have felt or what it might have cost him to walk away.

"I mean really Sam, did he teach you to be such a bully? I don't think he's been a good influence on you at all." she harrumphed. "This line of work he has you in doesn't suit you at all. Not one bit. Boy, just wait until I meet him! I have several things to say to him, oh indeed I do! Someone needs to set him straight! He's ruined your life! He..." bark from the tree she stood next to flew in several directions as he managed to keep enough self-control to strike the tree with his fist, rather than her face.

"You say one more word about my brother and you won't have to worry about the flooding, I will drown you myself." she finally took notice of the fury in his eyes, the disgust on his face and stepped back with a squeak. "My head is killing me Angie. I'm cold and wet, I don't want to be here and I'm not in a very good mood right now. I didn't expect to be away from home this long. I left my brother with a friend who doesn't know how to handle him when he's hurt or sick and all I want to do is get back to him. Now climb or I will leave your ass here. Am I understood?"

"Angela." Marcus interjected.

"Well!" she huffed. "Let me just say, I much prefer the Sam I knew in college."

"CLIMB!" he roared so loudly the child went silent. "AND YOU...?" he poked Marcus in the chest with one finger, knocking him backwards. "SHUT THE FUCK UP! You correct me one more FUCKING time about her GOD-DAMN name and I swear to GOD I will GAG you with your SOCK!"

Marcus wisely retreated and Angie opened her mouth to argue but the thunderous look he leveled her with sent her scurrying to begin her climb up the hillside. She tried starting up the hill several different times in a new spot each time but ended right back up where she'd started from.

"Thought you were an avid hiker." Sam sniped sarcastically after her fifth failed attempt to gain a foot hold and make any headway up the hill. Yup, one at a time it would have to be. "Give me your hand, I'll give you a boost, try to grab grass and shrubs to hold onto your way up, DO NOT grab at rocks."

Once they reached the top of the hill, Sam left her and began his descent down the muddy, slippery hill where he plucked the squirming, screaming child from her perch among the tree roots and carried her up the hillside where he left her with her mother and made his way back down the hill. He was beyond tired, didn't know where he found the strength to keep going. He knew the wind and rain and cold was taking a toll. Knew he couldn't continue much longer without stopping to rest. How many hours has passed? How long did each ascent and descent on the hill take? Two up, two still down. He didn't know whether to take the boy up next or send Marcus who would have to make the climb on his own. Sam simply couldn't make that trip a fourth time with the added weight of another human. As it was, he was able to keep going because he knew Dean would come after him, all he had to do, was hang on until he arrived.

Carrying the girl and climbing one-handed had tired him out more than he would have thought. He hated to be callous but he just didn't have the time or energy to care. She either hadn't been capable of holding on or hadn't wanted to and she'd done nothing but scream and squirm and fight him and make his progress difficult. Least he'd scared Angie into attempting the climb on her own. An attempt that hadn't been entirely successful and had required his assistance.

He slipped and slid down the muddy mountainside mostly on his ass. On his descent, he noticed the mud was worse, the grip holds he'd used on the two previous trips up, no longer stable in the mud. Water was now knee-deep where Marcus waited with his son. Great, well, least that settled whether or not to try to make a fourth trip. There wasn't enough time.

"Ready Petey?" he cracked his neck then stretched his back. If he ever saw this family again...and oh God, when Dean got a hold on him? He snorted, he'd be lucky to get away with just a scolding lecture.

"Yes." Petey nodded. "Would you like me to climb on my own?"

Sam eyed the boy in surprise. How had such a sensible kid been born to such annoying parents? "Do you think you can get on my back? Wrap your legs around my waist, your arms around my chest, not my neck." he grimaced as the recalled Molly's grabby claw-like hands grabbing his hair, his ears, his nose, his throat.

"Okay." Petey held his arms out and when Sam turned around and squatted down, the boy launched himself onto Sam's back. "Piggyback ride."

"You have to hold on tight." Sam told him. "I can't keep a hold of you the whole way up, okay?"

"Yes." and Petey wrapped his legs and his arms around Sam like Sam had instructed him to.

"Come on Marcus." Sam stood up. "Get going."

************************00000000000000000000000*******************

Jody?" Maggie eased open the door to the small room that served as Jody's office. Jody sat at her desk, police scanner on, CB cackling, TV tuned into a live news report. "Something going on?"

"Nothing to concern you." Jody flashed her a quick smile, eyes going back to the TV. "What are you doing up?"

"Oh, had to pee."

"Dean still asleep?" she couldn't keep the amusement from her voice.

"Oh hush." she entered the room and turned to watch the TV. "Flooding? Where? Is it serious? Wait a minute, is that in this state? There hasn't been any rain since I got here "

"Yes, it's contained, mostly. Nowhere near here."

"Then why are you worried?"

"I'm not worried." she denied, fingers tapping on her desk upon which laid a map. "It's just, the Missouri is a big river Maggie."

"Try again."

Jody sighed and pushed the map of South Dakota across her desk. "Sam should've been about two hours or so out when he pulled over to take a nap, knowing they tend to take back roads yet stay close to the interstate when possible, that would put him near Chamberlain."

"So?"

"So, I can't reach him." Jody admitted. "I can assume he's on this side of the river, but I don't know that. There are smaller rivers and streams and creeks that all empty into the Missouri. There are lakes and….."

"What are you saying Jody? What do you know? What do you think you know and what have you done?"

"Called the Sheriff's office in Brule County."

"And?" Maggie prodded. "Jody, out with it."

"I'm trying to tell you." Jody said patiently. "They evacuated the local campgrounds but there are still reports of trapped families. They are attempting to reach them by boat."

"Okay…but…there's a but isn't there?"

"A woman looking for her family was taken to the shelter from a roadside general store by an out-of-town law official." Jody went on. "Tall, good-looking fellow with long hair." she smiled at the description. "Not finding her family there, they left to go out to the campground."

"Not Sam? Do you mean Sam? It sounds like they meant Sam."

"Well, I have no way to verify it was actually him, but yeah."

"Well, what you doing here in your office?" Maggie asked bewildered. "Go get him."

Jody chuckled, then just laughed outright. "Go get him, right…..oh good one. First, not my jurisdiction, not even my county. Second, I wouldn't know where to begin to look for him. Third, he's more than capable of taking care of himself and if he can't, it's not me he'll want."

"Then why do you look so worried?"

"Because he would call if he could. I'm assuming cell towers are affected by the storm and he may not have access to a land line and even if he did, there's no way to know if they're working where he is."

"What does that mean? Jody? What does that mean?"

"It means, Dean will go after him."

"What? Now? He can't go out in that weather! He's sick Jody, he's been hurt…he's…don't tell him. If you don't tell him, he won't know and he'll stay here."

"Last night you wanted to go stay at a hotel. When I convinced you to stay, you slept with your door barricaded and now…"

"Jody, now is not the time!" Maggie sniffed. "What can Dean do out there anyway? He won't know where to look for Sam, we don't even know if Sam is involved or missing or….."

"He knows how Sam thinks, will know what Sam would do, where he would go, how he would help. He will find Sam Mom, there is no doubt in my mind. He'll start at the shelter, find out about the woman and determine if it was Sam who left with her to look for her family."

"How will he get close? Oh, but he's a law official too, isn't he? What branch of the law do they work for again?"

"Undercover."

"Yes, well, I still don't think you should tell him."

"And what do I say when he asks if Sam has called? What do I do when he gets up at 1 a.m. and Sam still isn't home?"

"He's in no condition to go traipsing about in the mountains, in the rain, _it's a flood _Jody!" she crossed her arms over her chest and stomped her foot. "Tell him he can't go."

"Tell him?" Jody snorted. "I want to see you tell him he can't go after his brother. Better yet I want to see you try to stop him from going."

"Surely he'll see reason. There are police and rangers and rescue crews out there helping anyone who is stranded. What does he possibly think he'll be able to accomplish that men who are trained for this kind of work, can't?"

"No storm, no flooded river, no range of mountains will keep them apart." Jody smiled. "They love each other, they hate each other but it's always, each other."

Dean stirred when a light flicked on in the room. He heard someone enter the room and eased onto his back, wasn't like he was sleeping soundly anyway. It was after 11 and he'd expected Sam back by now. He wouldn't start to wonder, cause, you know, he refused to worry, until midnight came and went. Maybe it was Jody with the news Sam had called and decided to hole up in a motel room. God knew the kid needed some decent sleep, not a restless nap in the driver's seat of the car.

"Hey you." Jody said softly, standing in the doorway. "You awake?"

"Yeah." he pushed himself up on the mattress and reclined against the wall. "What?" he yawned. "Sam call?"

"Aah, no." she entered the room and offered him the bowl she held in her hands. "Brought you some warm pudding."

"Warm?" he took the bowl, eyes widening when the bottom of the ceramic bowl was hot. "Ow!" it was hardly hot enough to evoke such a response but its warmth surprised him. "I thought you meant Snac-pac."

"I said warm, not room temperature." she said dryly. "You're not on the road living out of vending machines at the moment." she smiled. "It's chocolate…."

"Okay, why the bribe?"

"It's not meant as a bribe, it's….comfort food." she sighed. "There's something I have to tell you."

Dean calmly ate his bowl of pudding while Jody explained the situation, then got up, dressed, borrowed the keys to Jody's car and drove West. Jody didn't argue or complain or suggest he not go. Maggie clucked about, muttering under her breath but she obeyed the looks Jody sent her way and remained quiet. Jody didn't inform her she didn't expect the brothers back.

It didn't take him long to find the command center once he reached Chamberlain. A following trip to the shelter gave him all the information he needed. A map and a conversation with the locals told him he needed to reach the top of the cliff that overlooked the campground. He needed to see where the campground sat at the foot of the mountain, not a hill, this was freaking South Dakota, these local folks were nuts to call that mountain a hill. If Sam was with the family, and Dean knew without a doubt he was, he had two choices to make it to safety with the two kids. Climb the mountain or swim across the flooded campground to higher ground. Dean doubted Sam would have made the choice to swim, so, to high ground he headed.


	6. Chapter 6

It'd been some three hours since Dean had left Jody's house. He was used to being awake all hours of the day or night, grabbing a couple hours of sleep whenever, wherever he could, but the allergies were kicking his ass and the truth was, he didn't feel so good. His arm ached in a way he'd never before experienced, prompting him to think maybe he shouldn't have waited so long before stitching it up. Maybe it was infected and he was running a fever. Sam would know, he'd take one look at it, slap Dean upside the head for not having told him about it sooner then give him or do something to make him feel better. Didn't matter, he heaved a tired sigh, no since what-iffing.

He followed the map to a two lane mountain road that led to the cliff above the campground and drove five or so miles then pulled off and struck out on foot. He didn't know if it was the best place to begin his search, but there was a river he had to cross and he'd been assured by a local at the command center that here, would be a boat he could use. He hadn't thought to ask what kind of boat and the way his arm was crying, he'd hoped it wasn't a freaking rowboat.

The police and rangers milling around the command center had thought him insane to look for any stranded survivors atop the cliff. Anyone trying to make it out of the campground would come out the way they'd gone in, even if they'd had to swim. Dean knew they were right; any civilian with no hiking experience or survival skills would indeed do as experts expected, but Sam was no greenhorn. He would take the way out that would have the best guarantee of survival, even it meant climbing a cliff.

Dean trudged on, the rain and wind rendered the map useless and didn't allow for fast progress; good thing he knew the direction he had to go. Maybe it was the darkness and the weather, perhaps it was his heavy backpack, maybe he was that tired or maybe it was because he truly felt awful but by the time he heard the shrieks and screams he was too exhausted to do more than break into a jog. He came out of the tree line and stood for a moment, surveying the scene before him. A child sat by a tree, screaming her head off and what looked to be a man and a woman were on hands and knees at the edge of the cliff, peering over and shouting words he couldn't make out. He moved closer then threw himself to the ground on his belly and inched his way towards the edge of the cliff, now soft and unstable with mud.

"GET BACK!" he yelled, rising up onto his knees, he grabbed the woman by her shoulder and yanked her back. "STAY BACK!" he backed away on his knees, grabbed the idiot by his ankles and dragged him away from the edge, ignoring his clawing attempts to remain where he was. "I SAID STAY BACK!"

"Our son!" the man cried. "He's more than half up but….."

"PETEY!" the woman screamed, she rushed forward only to be knocked backwards onto her ass by an arm that had been thrown out to halt her progress. "He's only 8!"

Dean shrugged out of his backpack, pulled the flap and removed a rope. He efficiently tied one end securely around a stout tree and tossed the other end over the cliff then threw himself back onto his belly and wiggled his way back to the edge. It was too dark to see very far down the cliff and what little he could see was blurred by the driving rain.

Sam held onto a rock embedded in the increasingly unstable mountain side, feet scrambling for purchase in the mud. This last trip up the cliff had been the hardest. They'd been more than half way up when Marcus had slid backwards, knocking into Sam and forcing him to lose his grip and slide downwards on his belly several yards before managing to catch himself.

Only Petey's ability to hang on by grabbing Sam around the neck had saved him a nasty fall. Once Sam had recovered, Petey had regained his seat on Sam's back and released his hold on his neck, wrapping his arms around his chest once again. The kid was a tough little guy, unlike his father whose fall had been halted by Sam. Marcus had not lingered to try and help either Sam or his son and had instead made his way up the cliff, leaving Sam to make his way on his own. Petey didn't wiggle or squirm and though Sam could feel the tremble in the kids limbs, a sure sign he was exhausted, he still clung tight. Wouldn't be able to hold on for much longer though, the kid was growing weak and he would fall unless Sam managed to make it to the top and Sam didn't have any idea how he was suppose to accomplish that.

He figured Marcus had made it safely to the top because mud and pebbles and debris continued to rain down on him from added weight to the edge. Could the idiot do anything more to impede Sam's progress? He sure as hell hoped the wimpy ass prick could swim cause once he got his hands on the little weasel, he was going to throw him off the cliff. There was nothing they could do to help him finish the climb anyway, it wasn't like they had a rope.….a rope flew over his head, thudding into the mud out of arm's reach. He carefully twisted himself around, one arm holding to the rock, the other holding Petey's ankles to help him keep his seat. He was debating which hand would be better to reach for the rope with when Petey squeezed his sides with boney knees to get his attention.

"If you could turn to your left, I think I can grab the rope." Petey shouted. Once Petey had hold of the rope, Sam let go of the kids legs to work one handed. He dug his knees into the mud and crouched back onto his heels. Not a comfortable or safe position, but it would serve for the minutes he needed to get the rope tied around the kid.

"You hang on and don't let go!" Sam shouted above the wind. "You hear me?" he gave the rope several sharp tugs and the next thing Petey knew, he shot upwards, the rope cutting into his skin under his arm pits. Sam hugged the mountain and relaxed against it, he'd wait until the rope came back down.

Dean sat back on his ass, spread his legs, braced his feet out in front of him, dug his heels in and pulled. He expected a heavy weight, was braced for it, but the ease with which he was able to pull the rope hand over hand told him Sam had sent the kid up alone. He cursed, well, least that meant Sam was ok and climbing on his own. He didn't stop his steady pull until a wet, mud covered head broke the rim of the cliff. With one vicious yank the kid was skimming across the grass on his belly. Dimly, he heard a female voice squawk in outrage but he ignored it, turning his attention solely on the kid.

"Where's Sam?" he untied him the rope and shook the kid roughly. "Were you alone? Was there a man helping you? Answer me!" his intention wasn't to scare the kid, just get answers but all Petey managed to do was nod, coughing as he pointed to the edge of the cliff. Dean promptly released him, ignoring him as he tossed the rope back over the edge and resumed his braced position to haul on the rope, this time with a much heavier weight.

Sam wearily tied the rope around his own waist. The slope was slippery and he kept loosing his hand hold and foot notch, would slide backwards a bit before he could grab onto something and regain his balance. Wouldn't hurt to tie himself off and let Dean, and he was sure it was Dean, help his ascent. He didn't want Dean pulling his complete weight, just help guide him up, holding him if he slipped. His brief respite and the absence of Petey's weight enabled him to climb on his own for a bit. His strength was waning and his grips and grabs were weaker but he was nearly to the top.

Dean's thighs burned, his knees protested Sam's weight and his arm promised him retribution for the abuse it was suffering from the repeated motion of pulling, reaching, pulling. He grunted, shaking his head in an attempt to stave off the trembling in his left arm as his muscles quivered in near defeat.

Next thing he knew, the damn ding bat had darted forward and was hanging over the edge, calling out for Sam. Before Dean could yell at her to get back, the rope pulled through his hands, dragging him forward in the mud as the weight on the other end of the rope fell. Skin was ripped from his palms and fingers and he felt a pop in his left arm as it screamed its protest of this new mistreatment.

"SAM!" he bellowed. Blood made the rope, already slick with rain and mud, impossible to hold. He dug his heels into the mud and came up off his ass, falling forward onto his knees as he struggled to wrap the rope around his arms to stop both him from being dragged forward and Sam's possible plummet. Since the rope was tied off to the tree, should he not be able to hold Sam on his own, Sam wouldn't fall to the bottom of the cliff but that didn't mean his body wouldn't take a beating as he fell.

"SAM!" he came up off one knee, then the other, arms straining as he held onto the rope, all his weight thrown onto his hamstrings and ass. He tried to inch his way backwards, looking like a dog playing tug of war or a mule refusing to move but he was unable to stop his slow slide forward, the weight he was trying to hold, greater than his own. "SAM!"

The rope went slack, toppling Dean so hard onto his ass the vibration upon making contact with the hard ground made his ears clang. Sam must have fallen then caught himself. Slack in the rope meant he was conscious and not dangling from the rope and as soon as Dean was able, he regrouped and began pulling. He felt someone bump into his back, felt hands on his jacket and turned his head to see the scrawny kid crawling to the cliff. Once he got his brother on solid ground and made sure he was ok, he was going to kick his ass. He didn't know who to trounce first, the woman for rushing to the edge and most likely being the reason Sam had fallen, the man for not offering to help or Sam for putting himself in this situation in the first place.

"I see him!" Petey yelled. "He's waving at me..."

Good, if the kid could see him and know he was waving, he wasn't that far down and he was conscious. Yelling at him to remain where he was, Dean resumed hauling on the rope. This time the resistance was much greater, Sam not aiding as much as he had before and Dean's hands joined his arm in furious protest, but it didn't matter, long as Sam was conscious and climbing, Dean could ignore any injury he'd sustained. Least with the kid able to report back Sam's progress up the hill, Dean knew when to turn onto his belly and join Petey at the edge of the cliff.

Sam reached up and grasped for something to hold onto. He heard the voice shouting, couldn't make out the words but he knew whose it was and what it was saying; had known the moment the rope had splattered into the mud that Dean was there. He wanted to just let gravity and Dean's strength pull him up, wanted to quit and just for a moment, one moment, let this all be Dean's problem. Shaking the thought from his head and driven by determination not to burden his brother anymore than necessary, he flailed his hand about until he connected with something solid, a rock, a root, a tree, it didn't matter. It was only when his wrist was squeezed that he realized he'd found his brothers hand.

The rain, his sheer exhaustion, the mud or maybe it was blood, he didn't know or care, all he knew was he was seeing double and his equilibrium was off. His weight was supported only by the rope and he hung briefly in his brothers grasp, feet scrambling feebly for purchase against the muddy bank, knowing Dean wouldn't be able to hold his weight for long. Dean felt his right shoulder wrench, Sam's weight too much for it to bear, but didn't have time to worry about it. It didn't feel like he'd dislocated it again so he'd fuss about it later. Right now, the rope was the only thing keeping the three of them from going over the edge and two of them would slide down the mountain into the expanded lake. Biting his lip against pain and fatigue, his left arm still voicing its displeasure, he grabbed for Sam's other hand and with a herculean strength he only ever exhibited when Sam was in danger, pulled his brother to safety.

Once Sam was on all fours, spitting water and mud onto the grass, Dean yanked the kid backwards by his ankles and tossed him in the direction of his parents. "You ok?" Dean sprawled onto his back, arms flung wide. Wondered who was panting harder, him or his brother. Wondered briefly what the effort of pulling Sam up had cost him as the world swirled and twirled about him.

"Hey." Sam spluttered. "Ugh, yeah...I'm good."

"Good." Dean coughed, raising his head slightly then rolled to his side, pushed himself up onto one elbow, wavered then collapsed back into the mud with a groan. "Shit."

"You?" Sam questioned, not yet in any condition to do more than ask the question. He still couldn't see clearly and he was beginning to suspect he may have whacked his head again, maybe even have split it open. He was still gasping for his breath, trying to slow his breathing down when he realized Dean had yet to get up and come over to him. "Dean?" he pushed to his feet, slipping in the mud and going to his knees that for some reason were refusing to support his weight. After his third failed attempt to stand, he gave up and crawled over to Dean who remained turned away.

"I'm fine." Dean waved him off. Sam sat back, adrenaline had fled, everyone was safe, Dean was there and would take care of everyone. Somewhere in a corner of his mind, he knew he should probably be worried that Dean was choking in the mud but he didn't have the gumption to care; his tenuous grip on consciousness at last deserted him and he slumped sideways. "Sam?" Dean rolled from one hip to the other, still sprawled in the mud. "Sammy?" never before, _never_, had pain made him sick but he felt like he was about to puke in the mud. "Sammy, come on, don't you dare!"

Sam cursed his fate, his very being, blackness, oblivion beckoned and oh, how he so wanted to jump into that welcoming abyss and be done with the pain and torment and worry and frustration, but no, hell no. He was tethered to reality by an invisible leash and though he fought it, that leash was also a bond that kept him firmly attached to the voice repeatedly calling his name. A voice laced with concern and just a hint of pain, a voice he always welcomed and could never completely abandon. A voice that, as long as he still breathed, he would respond to.

"Don't..You..Dare..Shake..Me." he muttered into the mud. "Fuck me….." he moaned as his shoulder was grabbed and shaken. "Stop." he threw a handful of mud in Dean's general direction. "Cut it out!" he rolled away. "Knock...it...off."

"Yeah, well then, get up, we gotta go." Dean pushed himself to his knees. The nausea had passed and his stomach appeared to be willing to accompany him on the rise upwards to his feet. "Sam, come on…we gotta cross the river yet, let's go."

Cross a river? Had he heard right? Swim? Dean expected him to swim? To be able too? Now? After all that he'd just went through? Did Dean not realize that hill had been a mountain? _A cliff_? That he'd climbed IT three times? Twice, while carrying a kid? No…just no. It was the last straw, once he was of able body, he was going to thoroughly kick his brothers ass and take pleasure in doing it. Swim, right, like he could stand up, let alone swim. Dean had to know Sam had crawled to him, right? Every muscle in his body quivered, his arms wouldn't even hold him on his knees and Dean wanted him to swim across a river? Dumb ass needed to buy a clue! See him climb that freaking mountain, - _no, - cliff - _carrying two kids and…..

"There's a boat." Dean was saying. "Rescue crews will meet us on the other side….come on."

"Tell me it's not a fucking rowboat." Sam moaned miserably. Yup, that'd be just his luck and he'd bet it was a small boat too. One that probably carried two or three people at a time, meaning either he or Dean would have to row across the river more than once. Not fair, not fair at all.

"Who are you?"

Dean turned, somewhat taken aback by the abrupt tone. "Beg your pardon?"

"I asked who you were. Who-are-you?" Angie repeated slowly. "Are you alone? Why are you alone? You shouldn't be alone. Are you with the rescue crew? I should hope not! Rescue crews never go out alone."

"Who am I? What the Fuck…? I….What does it matter? Look lady…."

"My wife is called by her name, Angela." Marcus interjected. "Who you so rudely knocked aside and that would be my son, Petey who you threw across the grass..."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever….you're welcome." Dean cut him off and turned away, dismissing him.

"For what? I am hardly thanking you." Marcus puffed up. "You may address me as Marcus and there is no need for such language. Not in the presence of young children. My family is….."

"Look Mark, stow your crap and shut your trap, we gotta go."

"It's Marcus and there is certainly no need for your tone of voice. You certainly were not very professional about how you went about aiding us." he was absolutely appalled by the behavior of this rescuer and was determined to find out what unit he was with so he could address his conduct with his superiors. "You did not introduce yourself, failed to question us as to how many of us there were, what our situation was, if anyone was injured. Your conduct and behavior were completely unacceptable. We are going nowhere with you."

"What's his deal? He always talk like that?" Dean asked Sam as he retrieved his backpack then walked over and untied the rope from the tree. "Fine, you're on your own." he tossed over his shoulder to Marcus. "Let's go Sam. See you and your family around Mark." he made his way over to Sam and gave him a hand gaining his feet. "The rangers assumed you would attempt to swim across the campground…"

"You knew better." he spit out more mud then wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. "Shit." he took the bottle of water Dean held out to him with a nod of thanks.

"It's why I'm here and not with them and while you're safe here for now, the river is gonna flood, we gotta go while we can still cross in the boat."

"Which river?" Sam asked. "The Missouri has…..?"

"She's over her banks." Dean confirmed. "The one we have to cross is more of a creek but she's running high and fast, we have to go before she floods or we'll never make it to the car."

"Did you just dismiss me?" Marcus fluffed, prancing about in his indignation. "You can not just turn your back on me. Your superiors will hear about your rude, unprofessional behavior! I will have your name, your unit and rank..."

"You called him Sam." Angie pushed her way in between the two brothers. "Do you know him? How do you know him?" she turned to Sam. "Sam, does he know you? How does he know you? Do you know who he is?"

"Is she fucking serious?" Dean looked over her head to catch Sam's eye. "Really? Not her kids, not her peacock husband over there, you? She wants to know about you?"

"Huh...she...I..."

"Tell me on the way..."

"Where are the others?" Marcus asked, now wedged up next to Angie's shoulder.

"What others?"

"Rescuers, surely they did not send you alone." Marcus sniffed.

"They didn't send me at all. I didn't come out here for you." his tone, his look, his stance clearly said, 'back off', but neither Marcus nor Angie took heed of the oh-so obvious warning signs. "Sammy...we..."

"Sammy? You call him Sammy? No one, not even Jessica called him Sammy."

"Jessica?" Dean stepped around Angie, anger diverted. "Your Jessica? She knew Jess? You know her? Is that what this is all about?"

"Calm down." Sam might be wobbling where he stood, might not be able to see straight or clearly but there was nothing wrong with either his hearing or his taste. The blood on the water bottle, it might be dark but he didn't need light for his tongue to work, the grunts and groans every time Dean moved and the fact Dean was doing everything one-handed all added up to tell him something was wrong with his brother.

"Calm down? Calm down? You want me to CALM DOWN? What the hell is the matter with you? We don't have time for this shit Sam!" Dean exploded. "I thought you were either asleep somewhere safe where, by the way, you're suppose to be or stranded in the flood. I never expected to find you scaling a fucking mountain with some quacked-ass family who doesn't have enough sense to evacuate a campground when the largest river in the country is flooding!"

"The Mississippi." Angie corrected, stopping Dean in mid-rant and pulling his attention to her. She didn't appear to be at all offended over being called quacked-assed.

"WHAT?" disbelief crossed his face and his lip curled into a snarl. "What the hell are you talking about? Sam? What the hell is she talking about?"

"The Mississippi is the largest river." she took no notice of the anger directed her way. "See, in terms of length..."

"SAM!"

"Depending on geographical definition..." Marcus began.

"SAM!"

"Technically, the Missouri is the longest river, however if you were to include the Arachfalaya River..." Angie was shaking her head, so engrossed with her discussion with her husband she failed to notice the rising ire of one Dean Winchester. "Then the Mississippi would….."

"SAM!" he roared in such a rage that even Sam took a step backwards. "You're going to STAND here and ARGUE about a friggin RIVER? Are you for real?" he turned to Sam. "Dude, seriously? So, college educated, huh?"

"Now see here." Marcus's hands went to his hips. "You are completely out of line. Who do you work for? State? County? Town? Sheriff's Office?"

"Maybe he's a ranger." Angie said dubiously. "He is quite rude, is he not? Oh, I know! Does he work with you Sam? Is he from your office? I must say Sam, whatever branch of the law you work for, manners are not a priority...in fact, they're lacking."

Dean couldn't pull his jaw up and close his mouth, he simply stared at her, then Marcus, then Angie again, back and forth, unable to wrap his mind around what was going on in front of him. These people had just escaped death by drowning, were not yet out of danger, ignored two kids that were cold, wet, scared and tired and they were calmly discussing the definition of the largest river and concerned about his manners?

"Get the FUCK away from me." he ordered in a tone Sam knew meant he was about to go ballistic. "Of all...What the HELL is wrong with you people? JESUS CHRIST...I've never..."

"Sam? Are you going to let him talk to us like that? He has some nerve. Tell him he can't talk to us like that! Tell him Sam." Angie insisted. "Sam? Sam?"

"I thought you had several things you wanted to say to him, go ahead, set him straight, tell him how this line of work doesn't suit me, tell him how he's ruined my life." he managed a grin before his skull took exception to being vertical and pitched him forwards. "I dare you." and he collapsed into the arms that spread wide to receive him, that eased him down to his knees and let him rest his heavy, aching head against the shoulder that had offered him comfort and propped him up his whole life.

"Dean? _You're Dean_?" Angie gasped, aghast. "You..."

"Not another word, not one..." Dean threatened harshly, juggling Sam's weight into a more comfortable position so he could hold him without passing out himself from the way his arm was taking delight in waging a war with his stomach. "Or I will bounce your fucking head off a tree."


	7. Chapter 7

Sam stirred within the protective arms that shielded him from threat. Arms that despite the wind and cold rain, offered security and warmth. He knew he should move, should pull away and sit up on his own, but he couldn't bring himself do anything more than turn his head, forehead seeking the steady pulse in his brother's neck.

"Sammy? Hey, hey, no-no-no, you can't do this to me here." Dean gently combed his fingers through the mop of wet, mud entangled hair atop the head resting on his shoulder. He ignored the twinge in his arm and bit his lip to keep from moaning as he bent his arm awkwardly to search for sign of injury to Sam's head. He finally had to lift his brother's head and hold his chin in both palms, thumbs on either cheek and give him a gentle shake. "Sam? Hey, come on, talk to me…..you hit your head?" flashlight between his teeth, he checked his brother over for injury. "Guess so, huh?" he muttered around the light he balanced between his lips when Sam tried to bury his face under Dean's chin to avoid the beam of light. "Okay, ok…come on…man up, you gotta walk out of here."

"I beg your pardon? You want him to do _what_? " Angie gasped. "Are you insane? He is hurt! He needs medical attention, get on your radio and call for help!"

"Angela, he is not with any rescue crew." Marcus hissed. "My god, _look at him_!"

"Of course he is! He has to be! Here, move aside, let me see him. He's not responding to you but he knows me." she made to kneel beside the brothers but her husband yanked her back. "Marcus!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing? Release me!"

"Angela...Good God, are you trying to get yourself killed?" he hissed. "That backpack is not standard issue. He is not wearing any kind of uniform or protective coat. The only one of us he has shown any concern for is Sam. Nothing about him suggests he is in any way engaged in the act of rescue."

Her eyes went wide and her mouth popped open. "Ki...kill...killed?" she frowned. "Honestly Marcus, you overact to every situation. Sam needs me. This, this..man…stranger is not capable of taking care of him!"

"Do you not see him - them - for what they are? This man is no stranger to Sam, neither one is any kind of law official nor will they want any part of a rescue crew."

"Nonsense." she waved him off. "This is Sam Marcus, I know him..."

"You _knew_ him...you don't know him anymore. You knew him when he was a kid and away from his brother, a brother he's been with, for what, seven years now? He's a man now Angela….and you don't know these men."

"Sam needs help, my help…..this…..this…man is not doing anything to help him!"

"I don't see Sam trying to get away from him."

"He's hurt Marcus! He just passed out!"

"No." Sam muffed out from the depths of shirt collar and neck. "I didn't, Angie…."

"Maybe you should see to your kids." Dean spoke up. So, Sam wasn't responding to him, huh? The douche wad should let the bitch come closer so she could see the grip he had on Dean's shirt and the way he nuzzled against his neck trying to alleviate what Dean guessed was an onslaught of pain in his head. "You know, the one who has yet to stop screaming and the other who has yet to say a word to either of you and let me worry about Sam."

Oh yeah, Marcus shuddered, that tone of voice? That defensive posture? That protective hug? This brother of Sam's was capable of violence. Deadly violence. Marcus had seen the look of murderous intent before and he was glad it was too dark to see the other mans face for he was convinced he would see that look reflected both on his face and in his eyes. For all Sam's impatience and ire, Marcus had only felt intimidated, not scared, but this guy?

"Trust you with Sam?" Angela spoke in a clipped voice. "After you knocked me down, brutally tossed my son and endangered him? Oh, I don't think so."

"The son you've ignored? That son?" Dean's voice once again began to rise in anger. "The kid was never in danger, unlike Sam when you ignored my order to stay back!"

"What are you saying? Are you suggesting it was _my_ fault he slipped? That he fell?"

"It is your fault!" Dean shouted. "He isn't even suppose to be here! I never would have let him finish the job on his own if I thought he'd be stupid enough to get himself caught in a freaking flood helping asshats like you and your desk jockey boy toy!"

"Angela." Marcus hissed, reaching out and grabbing for his wife, wanting to pull her away from the men who were still on their knees. Angie, however, was fluttering around the two, asking questions, demanding answers and getting agitated over continually being ignored.

"What are you doing?" she let off harassing Dean and turned her ire on her husband. "Let go of me! Sam's hurt? Can't you see that?"

"I am well aware of that fact. Let his brother take care of him." the brother who didn't appear too worried that his brother had just collapsed and wasn't responding but that wasn't Marcus's problem.

"What? Certainly not! I….."

"Angela, you do not know Sam's brother. Let him handle this."

"I do not believe he's Sam's brother. He can't be….Sam is…..no." Angie pulled free from her husbands grasp. "I mean, truly? No, no, it simply can't be true, I refuse to believe it, it's not possible. His brother would be concerned about Sam, he would care…he hasn't even tried to find out where - if - Sam's hurt." she shook her head as she began to pace. She stopped, frowned, pursed her lips, tilted her head then resumed pacing. "Well, that would solve the mystery of why Sam never talked about him. I mean nothing, four years of school and not a phone call or a letter or a birthday card. I doubt there was even an email. I mean, Sam didn't even go home for holidays. Well, there was that picture, but aside from that…but then…..well no...not like it was on display. It was hidden away in his wallet. No one, not even Jessica.…No, wait, Jess did say...I wonder, did…."

"SHUT! UP!"

So, this was the infamous Dean Winchester. There was no longer any doubt, the snarl in which those two words were uttered, cemented Marcus's belief that he was staring at Sam' s older brother. Lordy, lordy, had he heard about these two. From the first time Sam Winchester's name had hit the news, he'd been made aware the younger of the two wanted-by-the-law brothers was known to his wife. She'd known Sam while at college and insisted he was kind and gentle, patient and generous, incapable of doing anything the news had accused him of. She'd known nothing about the elder brother, much to her chagrin.

Sam, obviously was no longer the man his wife remembered, if he ever had been. Marcus might prosecute white-collar crimes, but he was not blind to the ways of the more violent criminal world. The man kneeling on the ground in front of him? This was a man who could only be pushed so far before he took action. A man without a conscious who did what he wanted and wouldn't hesitate to end a threat to what he considered his. He oozed arrogance, it rolled off him in waves. Marcus had seen his kind before; hardened, cocky, self-assured, confident, capable of handling himself in any situation. Undercover law official? Not a chance in hell. He truly believed this brother of his wife's college crush was capable of and guilty of any and every crime ever laid at his feet. From thievery to credit card fraud to robbery to grave desecration to violence to murder. Cold-blooded, pre-mediated murder. Multiple murders.

Marcus was a state prosecutor in the state of Illinois, but he went to conventions and dinners and award banquets and when lawyers and judges and prosecutors got together, the biggest news story across the country was the topic of discussion. Certainly, a crime spree by two alleged, supposedly deceased criminals was dinner table conversation, especially when they'd been declared deceased more than once.

"Dean." Sam murmured, breath hot against the cold skin of his neck. God-damn, his head hurt, it was no longer just a headache. Moving made him dizzy. Long as he kept his eyes closed and didn't try to raise his head, he was able to stay conscious. He wanted to lay down, lay down and sleep. Long as Dean was with him, he could….God, why didn't Angela shut up? Why didn't Marcus make her? Couldn't Marcus tell Dean was ready to blow?

Dean hadn't been dealing well lately, wasn't feeling good now and was still suffering from allergies. Far as Sam knew, he wasn't completely over the reaction he'd thrown to the allergy meds Sam had forced him to take nor did he know whether Dean had taken anymore before coming out after him and if he had, what kind. Sam didn't know how bad the injury to his arm was but wasn't happy to know he'd needed stitches. No matter how easily or how often Dean received them, there was still pain in being stitched up. Sam also had no idea what he might have done to himself while pulling him and Petey up the cliff. He remembered the taste of blood on the water bottle Dean had offered him, blood that hadn't been his own. Nor was Dean, mentally, in a very good place these days. God, if he'd taken pain meds or anything for his fever as well as more allergy meds, he could be volatile.

"Enough." better for everyone if he got Dean to direct his anger at himself.

"Enough? Oh no Sammy, not nearly enough! Don't think you're going to get out of this with just a whack on the head!" Dean hitched his shoulder, jostling Sam but he didn't get the response he was seeking, cause Sam didn't move. "I don't care if her feelings get hurt, I didn't ask to be here and I want to get the hell outta here, so get your ass moving."

"Here's what you're going to do." Angie hadn't given up. "You'll leave him here with me and take Marcus to go for help."

"For the LOVE of all that's HOLY, I don't have TIME for this!" if Dean wasn't impeded by Sam's weight against him, Sam wouldn't have been the only one punching trees. "You really, REALLY need to get the HELL away from me."

"Angie…" Sam tried but Dean shushed him.

"I'm so gonna KICK your ass for this, see how you like chewing on only one side of your mouth for a month." Dean threatened then held back a sigh. "We had a plan Sam, what happened to the plan?" he gave Sam a gentle shake. "Salt, burn and return, remember that? Huh?"

"I did."

"Then what the fuck am I doing here?" Dean snapped irritably, jostling him harder this time, "Come on, we gotta go and I ain't carrying you."

"K." Sam forced himself to lift his head, but still held tight to the sleeves of Dean's shirt. "How far?" if he was given a minute or two, he felt he'd be able to gain his feet. He'd see about walking once he was upright.

"Sam! You can't…..you…..No, you cannot go with him, I will not allow it. Surely the rescuers are out there or on their way here. They know we came out here, right? They said they would look for us…..we'll be safe here until they come for us."

"You won't allow it?" Dean repeated, shaking loose from Sam's weak hold, he rose to his feet and stepped out of his reach. "Just who the hell do you think you are?"

"Who do you think you are?" she threw back in his face. "I am his friend and he shouldn't be moved, he's been hurt and we don't know the extent of his injuries. You know, if you are his brother, you would know that. You would be more concerned with finding out what injuries he has and how bad they are then making him stand up and walk out of here. You would bring help here to him." she sniffed and turned her nose up at him. "I understand why he left home." she snorted. "Why he never spoke of you or told anyone about you. What kind of family does that? Cuts off all contact? What kind of life did he have with you? Look where he is! He had a great future ahead of him, great education, accepted to law school, the world was his to take….then came you."

"Get..out..of..my..face." Dean bit out harshly. "You know nothing about his life."

"If he hadn't lost Jess….if you hadn't come….I mean, odd how the first time you show up in four years, a fire breaks out in their apartment. Oh, Sam was never in danger, was he? No, you had him with you….made sure you were there…..made sure you got him out….Jess wasn't so lucky, was she?"

"If the next words out of your mouth in any way suggest I had anything to do with Jessica's death or am in someway responsible for it, you won't have to worry about whether you're safe here until rescue crews find you."

"Is that a threat?"

"Bitch, it is a promise."

"Dean." Sam warned.

"And what is it you're going to do? No Marcus." she held a hand up to ward her husband off when he began to verbally intercede. "Someone needs to tell him just what it is he has done to Sam….he's ruined his life. I don't know what happened but it's obvious as far as he's concerned, Sam can't have both a girlfriend and a brother in his life! This man is…"

"Wow, you just don't know when to quit, do you?" Dean sneered, stepping forward until a weight dragged on his leg and he paused to look down, seeing that Sam had managed to roll over and grab his foot. "Sam, let go."

"Stop." Sam used his grip on Dean's jeans to haul himself up to his knees. "Dean….back off….enough….just…don't, leave her alone."

"Leave…leave her alone?" Dean exclaimed incredulously. "Got that backwards, don't you? I'm not the one standing here throwing insults and accusations!"

"No, just threats." Marcus got in.

"Dean…..she doesn't…know you. Alright? She doesn't…." he swallowed hard. "Just…please…enough."

"Dammit Sam! Enough? You think this is enough? Is that right? Tell me, what do you think is enough? TELL HER she's pushed me ENOUGH! I'm always the one pushed and always the one you ask to back down! You think that's FAIR? Nothing was supposed to go wrong! All you had to do was dig a hole, dump some salt, pour some gasoline and light a match! It should have been that simple!"

"Dean…..please….can we….do this later? Not…out here?"

"WHAT? DO you think I want to be here? DO you think I should be? I'm suppose to be tucked up, cuddling a box of Puffs. Okay? That enough for you? How come I don't hear you telling her to back off, to shut up, to leave me alone?"

Sam gulped, that hurt. Once again, his brother viewed him as an obligation; duty the reason Dean had come after him. "Cause she…she's."

"She's what Sam? Part of the life you wished you still had? The life you blame me for taking away from you?" Dean shook Sam's grasp loose and stepped away from him. "Fuck you Sam! I'm sick and tired of always stepping around on eggshells with you and your tender feelings! She stands here and accuses me of killing your girlfriend and I'm the one you tell to back off? What's the matter with you? The fucking….." he caught sight of the boy who had crept forward and now sat on his knees next to Sam, one hand holding Sam's, eyes wide, whether in fear or awe, Dean didn't know, but the sight of the kids uncertainly was enough to curb his tongue. "You…I mean, oh…fuck it…. Dammit Sam! She's…..she's a…she Can't Understand Normal Thinking!"

"DEAN!" Sam scolded, did his best to scowl at the language his brother was using but the pain in his head didn't allow for facial contortions. "The kid…" dear god, he felt…oh no. Once again, he pitched forward, but this time rather than passing out, he vomited into the mud. One hand splayed on the ground, bracing his weight, the other held his hair out of his face. Tears pricked his eyes as a booted foot shoved against his shoulder, knocking him onto his back, away from the soiled mud.

"STOP that!" Angela cried. She rushed forward, eluding Marcus's attempt to restrain her but it wasn't Dean she was throwing herself towards.

"Angela!" Marcus shouted. "What are you doing?"

"You touch him and I will break every bone in your hand." Dean was a solid wall between Sam and anyone who even thought to get near him. Even though it was dark, he stared her down, more than prepared to carry through on his threat should she persist in her attempt to get around him. "Now BACK OFF!"

She wavered then retreated to her husband's side and said not another word.

"We get back, I'd better never see you again." satisfied she would now stay away from Sam and keep out of his face, he squatted down next to Sam. "Sammy." Dean sighed. Once again, his feelings and emotional upset got shoved down and put aside for the sake of Sam. "Come on, big guy, let's get you outta here." rising to his feet, ignoring his arm and the numbness in his hands, he hauled Sam up with him. Sam stumbled until Dean let him slump against a tree while he shouldered the backpack, then accepted the offer of Dean's right arm. "Move." he didn't look back to see if Angie and Marcus followed him or not but Petey trotted right along the other side of Sam.

Rescue crews actually met them on their side of the river where Dean had left the boat. Not having found the missing family being escorted by an out-of-town law official in the waters of the campground, they had decided to follow Dean's lead and had flown in by seaplane. Marcus waited to see how Dean would interact with the rescue crew, expecting him to shy away from any authority figure but to his amazement, they greeted Dean as though he were one of their own.

Sam wondered why a seaplane instead of a chopper but he wasn't going to quibble. No, wait….he should say something..shit, what was it? He must have hit his head harder than he'd thought because he couldn't think right nor could he see straight. Hell, he couldn't force himself to focus or concentrate. There was an odd taste in his mouth, experience told him it was blood. Probably had bitten through his tongue or cheek, didn't know, didn't matter other than the constant nausea made him dizzy and unsteady on his feet. The trek through the woods to the river had done him no favors.

He was vaguely aware of being taken from Dean, guided to a fallen tree and asked numerous questions while a light shone into his eyes. Ow, he didn't like that. Dean had done it but had stopped when he'd hid his face against his brothers shoulder but not this guy. Hands held his jaw still, fingers pried his mouth open and his tongue tasted rubber from latex gloves. His ears were inspected and fingers webbed through his hair, checking for a head injury. Hell, all they had to do was ask. How many times in his life had he hit his head, been hit over the head, been knocked out by a blow to his head or to his face or had his head slammed into some hard object? More times than any human would be able to tolerate yet in all those times, over 20 some odd years of his life, he'd come away with a concussion maybe twice, a head injury once. So what the hell was wrong with him this time? He needed to tell someone something, he had something to say, what was it again?

"Sir? Hey, you with me? Hi."

Sam blinked, looking down to see if his feet were nearby. He was cold and though he could feel his knees twinge, he couldn't feel his feet and thought perhaps he had taken them off until they dried out and were warm. Huh, could a person do that? Remove their feet? Bet he could…he could do lots of things people couldn't…Is that what he needed to tell someone?

"Sir? Sir? Hey, need a stretcher over here!"

"What?" his head came up, all thoughts of his feet gone. "No, no, I'm ok….what?"

"We're ready to go." the man rose to his feet, expecting Sam to rise with him. "Sir?"

"Chet? You ready? Load him up, injured go first. You want a stretcher for him?"

"Any luck with that one?" Chet asked. "He's good, aren't you?"

Sam heard the voices but paid no attention until one loud, agitated voice punched him in the gut. Dean. Great, what the hell was he bitching about now? Let the rescuers take Angie and her family first, he never wanted to see them again. Ever. He could wait, hell he could take the boat and….oh. Yeah. Right. Dean.

Sam dug deep, dug deeper than he ever had before and pulled himself together. Aah….there it was. Sam watched the small plane bob and heave and be tossed about on the turbulent water and felt his stomach heave with it. There was no way Dean would willingly get on _that_ plane. Nope, not a chance. Well, fine. His whole life, he'd been accused of being selfish and you know what? He was….he wanted Dean with him and Sam didn't care if willingly wasn't an option.

"You'll never get him on that plane." Sam said around a thick tongue. Amazing how he couldn't speak his name or repeat the date or name the current state he was in but let it be about what he wanted - _Dean_ - and he had no problems carrying on a conversation. "It takes me hours to soothe him and calm him down enough to talk him onto a Boeing 747.…" he paused as his brothers raised voice was clearly heard.

"…fucking cracker box…." - then - "….damn death trap…." - followed by - "…..it's a fucking flying boat…." - continued with - "…boats weren't meant to fly…..I….meant…to..fly…._I'd _have…..wings..." - ending with - "…row the fucking boat myself."

Good ole, predictable Dean. Arguing about rowing a boat himself before he'd get on that plane. He'd argue until the rescuers gave up and left him to return by boat or swim for all they cared. Sam held a finger up, a silent plea asking the medic for a moment. His ears were ringing but he had a goal and he was going to accomplish it. He wanted his brother with him and by God, he would be.

He walked, ok, _staggered_ over to where Dean and two rescuers argued. He'd obviously allowed them to tend to his arm and hands but any good will towards them had fled when they'd insisted he board the plane. Sam didn't pause or acknowledge the men, said nothing to his brother, didn't attempt to calm him down or broker a truce. One punch and Dean hit the ground. Sam supposed he should feel bad, but he didn't.

"Let's go." Sam said.

"Need a stretcher over here!" Chet yelled, then. "Make it two!" as Sam hit the ground. "Man, wouldn't want to be this one or be anywhere near that one when he wakes up."


	8. Chapter 8

*** Wow, heat wave out East!

Shout out to Laurie, I hope I understood everything correctly. If I didn't, (I may have twisted a fact here or there) go with the flow and call it creative thinking. *****

* * *

"Great vacation Margaret." Maggie padded around the kitchen, making herself a grilled cheese sandwich. "Sure, I can amuse myself, it's what I came here to do, spend time alone." she opened cupboards, slapped pans around, yanked the fridge door open and rooted around for cheese and butter. "Lunch plans? Why yes, I have reservations for one at La Cafe Mills, perhaps you've eaten there? Cheery place, never crowded, good service, wide variety on the menu." she muttered to herself. "Reasonably priced."

Soon as dawn had broken, Jody had taken off to the office. She hadn't gone to the office to try to find the boys, oh no. Seems a potential natural disaster in one's state took precedence over two missing boys, one of whom was sick and hurt. She didn't want to hear they were grown men capable of looking after themselves. She didn't want to hear they wouldn't be coming back. She didn't want to understand she wouldn't know what had happened. She wanted….what did she want?

"Sleep." Maggie sighed. "Not like I got any last night." was a woman of 71 allowed to pout? She wanted to plop herself in a chair, cross her eyes and sulk until Jody gave in and did what she wanted. And that was find the boys. Jody was a Sheriff, _a Sheriff_! Didn't that count for something? Call in some favors, get on the phone, get on the wire or the CB or whatever means of communication law enforcement had, find those poor boys and bring them home.

Dean, the damn fool, what had he been thinking? With the way he'd been feeling? The pain he'd been in? The fever he'd been running that had been left untreated since she'd been denied the opportunity to give him acetaminophen? She hadn't wanted him to go, had voiced her opinion rather loudly when Jody didn't argue when Dean had announced his intention to go find his brother and Jody need not accompany him.

Dean might be a law official but he wasn't one in this county or even this state. Surely Jody would have been able to help smooth the way with the local and state authorities. She understood Sam had been caught in the flood waters, but really, how did Dean, in his physical condition, expect to find him when the state police, local police, sheriffs and their deputies, and park angers were all out with fire departments and rescue crews? Dean was one man and he hadn't gone to help hikers, tourists, campers, residents or anyone else. He'd gone with the sole intention of finding his brother. How did he expect to do that and why was Jody so convinced he'd be able to?

An indelicate wrinkle of her nose and a most unfeminine sniff informed her it was time to flip her sandwich. Determined not to spend the day pouting, she squared her shoulders, hummed a happy tune, slipped the spatula under the bread…

"I like mine with bacon."

She screeched, sandwich flung airborne, bread then cheese splatting against the wall as she and frying pan whirled to do battle with whoever had spoken from behind her and found that two men, not just one, had entered the kitchen without her being aware.

"YOU!" she hugged herself, felt the heat from the frying pan and threw it into the sink with a clatter and clang that elicited a moan of pain from one and a curse from the other. "What the hell? Good Lord!" she exclaimed. "What happened to you? To him?" she pointed, hand still shaking from the fright she'd received, at Sam who was standing but slumped against the wall. "What are you doing here?"

Dean looked worse than he had the night he'd waved a gun at her right in this very kitchen. She hadn't thought that possible but that bruise on his jaw was….yes, it was swollen! Then Sam raised his head and she cried out in dismay, hand flying to her heart in alarm! The poor boy belonged in the hospital. Just what the living hell did Dean think he was doing bringing him here? Had he denied him professional care or removed him from it?

"Dean…!" she cried out as Sam started to slowly slide down the wall.

"I've got him." Dean sighed tiredly, his arm protested the weight as Sam drooped. Yeah, maybe Sam should have stayed at the hospital, had more tests done but he would just have to suffer a bit and recover at Jody's house from the whack, er, whacks to his head, for the medics had found evidence of three. "Come on Jolly Green, this ain't the valley and Maggie doesn't need to step around your ass all day."

"Floor's….fine." Sam protested. "Lemme be."

"Can't stay here." Dean hauled him up. "Come on."

"Jody's room." Maggie corrected when Dean turned towards the room he'd been sharing with Sam. "Dean….." she silenced him with a look when he opened his mouth to protest. "We can't properly take care of him in a bunk bed. For one thing, the bed is too small, for another, he sits up, he'll whack his head. The sheets will be hard to change and he'll be against the wall…and her room has the attached bathroom….now shut up and move it…you don't look capable of holding him much longer." they weren't going to argue about this, she wouldn't have it. Dean could flat-out pitch a fit over where Sam slept but if he got in her face, she was calling 911.

Maggie sealed her lips together. She felt a moment's panic with the look that crossed his face but swallowed with a gulp and held her gaze steady. That look said Sam was his and any details regarding his care would be approved by him, no interference needed nor tolerated. She pulled herself together, ignored the death glare directed her way and moved to Sam's other side, staggering under his weight as she pivoted him towards the opposite direction Dean wanted him to go. Dean didn't move with them and they tugged Sam in two directions. He raised his head, chin lifting from his chest with a whimper. Maggie stifled a cry, his bruised eye sockets were swollen, sunken to the point they appeared lost in his cheek bones. His forehead was swollen from a large gash that spread out along his forehead and temple distorting his face. Even his nose was swollen, possibly broken, she couldn't tell. He head butted into Dean's shoulder who raised his hand to grab hold of the back of Sam's neck and squeeze gently.

"I'm right here." Dean said softly. "Come on." putting Sam in the middle of his dispute with Maggie was not something he was willing to do. For the sake of the kid trembling in his arms, he'd give the old lady her way. This time.

"Dumpfh." was a noise from Sam that had the Maggie frowning in confusion but was easily deciphered by Dean.

"Down, I know….come on." Dean said quietly. "Sam….come on." he kicked open the bedroom door. "I need a soft but firm scrub brush, bucket of hot water with dish soap…..or hand soap, liquid though."

"For what?" Maggie demanded.

"ooooo...rrrrr...uuuu?" Sam slurred. "Dee...ennne...oooo's heee?"

"Come on Sam, you ain't exactly a light weight...move..."

When he wanted to, had to, Sam could force himself to bring forth a moment of clarity. When it came to Dean, he could become clear-headed in the blink of an eye. "You promised we'd go back to Sheriff Mills!" Sam accused, refusing to move another step. "I...Dean, you swore to me... I'd've...the hospital if..."

"We are at the Sheriff's house!" Dean growled, patience and strength having both deserted him.

"He hasn't seen a doctor?" squawked Maggie in outrage from the other side of the bed.

"Stop lying to me." his words were slurring again.

"Why hasn't he seen a doctor?" she was pulling the blankets back, feathers ruffled in outrage over Dean's obvious disregard for his brothers health.

"What the fuck's gotten into you?" Dean demanded. Maggie started but he wasn't speaking to her, it was Sam who had his complete attention.

"Don't you need one too?" they ignored her like she wasn't even in the room. The conversation between the brothers continued with looks and hand gestures only they understood. "What happened to your hands?"

"She's...that is not Jody!" Sam stated emphatically.

"Oh boy." Dean sighed. "You're right, it's her mother..."

"In-law." Maggie spoke up.

"Not helping." Dean cut her off with a roll of his eyes.

Oh, now they paid her attention? Roll his eyes at her, will he?

"What's an in-law?" Sam blinked as be looked about the room, recognized it as a bedroom even if didn't know the woman it belonged to. So, somewhere Dean had met a random female who had taken them both home. Guess it was good enough, least they hadn't holed up in some un-sanitized motel room. All of a sudden, the light was too bright, the voices were too loud, the smell coming from the kitchen was too strong; he whimpered softly and tried bury his head under Dean's chin.

"Enough with your touchy-feely crap." Dean groused and averted his face but didn't pull away or push Sam from him. "God, but you get clingy when you don't feel good…..sheesh!" he let Sam drop on Jody's queen size bed, swinging his legs up to the mattress when Sam made no move to do so himself.

"Why hasn't he seen a doctor? You both should see one. How did you get here? Why are you here? Jody said…."

"He doesn't need a doctor, he has me." Dean cut her off. They were there because once they'd landed, Sam had played the emotional guilt to get his way. Dean had wanted to drive on, find a decent motel and hole up until they were both feeling better but Sam had thrown such a fit, he'd made himself sick. He'd wanted to either go to the hospital or return to Jody's and with the rescue crew right there, Dean either had to give in or watch Sam be taken to the hospital without him.

"Okay, he has you, who do you have?"

"Either get what I asked for or get out of my way."

"What are you going to do with a scrub brush?"

A door slammed, keys hit the table and footsteps came down the hallway. "Dean!?"

"Your room!" Maggie called out. "What are you doing home Jody?"

"Scrub." Dean was tugging Sam out of his jacket while Jody was unlacing a boot. He said something to Jody that caused her to make a face but nod in agreement.

"Scrub what?" all she could think that needed cleaning was their clothes, and really, now was not the time to worry about blood or mud stains. For the love of God, couldn't they just buy new clothes? Hell, she'd buy them for them if after tossing their clothes into the washer, they failed to come clean. But not now! They both needed hot showers and warm clothes and hot soup, maybe a hot toddy, Dean did seem to favor his whiskey. "Him?" she repeated, had she just heard right? "Did you say, 'him'? Him who? Him who what?" in the minute she'd been lost in her own thoughts over the brothers unusual attachment to their clothes, Jody and Dean had carried on a conversation while stripping Sam to his boxer briefs, clothes tossed in a wet heap on the carpet. Now that was a stain to be concerned about! No matter the off-the-shelf cleaner Jody tried, no scrub brush was going to…..

"Bath?" Jody was asking as Dean straddled his brother, lifted his head from the mattress with a hand tangled in his hair and accepted the bottle of JD from Jody.

"Can draw one, yeah." Dean fought with Sam to get the neck of the bottle near his mouth. "Come on Sammy, you ain't gonna win, so open your mouth." whiskey splashed across Sam's face, down his neck and on the bed as he twisted one way then another in a vain attempt to evade Dean who was persistent, finally wrestling Sam into submission and forcing him to accept the bottle between his teeth. "Best if you swallow…yeah…that's it….good…okay?"

"You wanna hold him?" Jody asked. "Or scrub?"

"You…think you can? Probably better if I hold him."

"Scrub him?" Maggie screeched. "You-you're…what? Where? You can't…I can't…..no….no, absolutely not. You are not going to scrub that boy like he's a dirty carpet! I forbid it."

"She forbids it." Dean grinned at Jody, eyebrow quirked.

Maggie frowned. "Are you laughing at me?"

"No ma'am." he replied quickly and returned his attention to Sam. "How you doing kiddo?" he gave Sam's cheek a gentle slap, eliciting a soft moan in response. "Never could hold his liquor…..here, have some more."

"What are you doing? Alcohol is not…..he HAS a head injury!" a hand went out to the wall to support herself. Her poor heart could not take any more of these two. If they weren't frightening her near to death, they were shocking her with their unconventional methods of medical treatment.

"He has three." Dean shrugged, thumbing open an eyelid. "No concussion though."

"And you know that, how? Look at him! Do you see his face? How could anyone hit their head that hard, hard enough to cause that swelling and bruising and not have a concussion?!"

"Mom." Jody interrupted. "Can you go fill a bucket with warm water, add some dish detergent and bring it back with the brush you'll find on the pantry shelf?"

"No."

"Excuse me?" Jody looked up in surprise. "No?"

"Oh, you heard me missy, no. That boy needs a doctor, a hospital. He needs to have tests, make sure there is no internal swelling or bleeding. Here he lays with an obvious head injury and you give him alcohol?!" she cried, horrified. "Alcohol Jody! Liquor! Of all….and a scrub brush? You want to scrub him?!"

"He's conscious." Dean got off the bed. "He's fine, I'd know if he wasn't. Not all head injuries result in a concussion." Sam rolled onto his side, hand reaching out after Dean, falling to the mattress when he grasped air. "And he's seen a doctor, no traumatic brain injury, so relax."

"Where are you going? You can't leave him here like this?! Jody, do something!"

"I'm not leaving him, geesch Grama, chill out." Dean paused. "Will you get the water and brush or not?"

"Tell me why."

"Never jumped hurdles on a gravel track, huh? He has slate and dirt and gravel imbedded in his shoulder, belly and hip, quickest way to get it out is to rub-a-dub-dub, scrub-a-grub and dump-him-in-the-tub." Dean supplied. Sam was pliant on the bed and while Dean wished he would stay that way, he knew he wouldn't. It wasn't that Sam would choose to fight him, he'd do his best to remain still and allow Dean to do what he needed to, but it would be painful and with his head having been the mallet in a game of whack-a-mole, he wouldn't be able to refrain from his body's natural response to the trauma being inflicted upon it.

"And then fill the tub, warm water, no bubbles." Jody gave her a reassuring smile. "Go."

Maggie didn't move. "Never heard of tweezers?"

Jody sighed and headed to the door. "Fine, I'll get it….Dean….."

"We'll need those too" Dean said. "Let me clean up first and fill the tub." he went into the connecting bathroom and closed the door. The running water into the Jacuzzi tub would mask any noise he might make. First thing he did, was open the sink vanity and root around for any cleaner that might contain ammonia. He was wet and cold, knew he should shed himself of his wet clothes but to do that would reveal the bandage on his arm was not soaked with only water. He'd see to Sam first, then worry about himself later. He peeled off his wet coat and flannel shirt then un-capped the liquid Comet cleaner and inhaled deeply. Made-at-home smelling salt that he'd learned as a kid. Eyes watering but for the moment, clear-headed, he unwrapped his arm and began to do what he could to tend the wound which had popped every last stitch Maggie had set.

"Dean?" Maggie was knocking on the door. "Dean?"

"Yeah, just a minute." he'd learned a lot of things as a kid. One was to work efficiently one-handed, aided by his teeth. He tossed the sodden bandages, held his arm over the sink and poured hydrogen peroxide over the torn stitches. He'd worry about removing them and re-stitching later. It might hurt like a bitch, but he still had full movement in his wrist, hand and all his fingers so he was pretty sure he'd once again escaped serious injury to muscle or tendons. Grimacing, he quickly re-bandaged his arm and pulled his wet-long sleeved shirt back on. Another whiff of ammonia and all evidence of his hasty first-aid hidden, he opened the door to greet Maggie's suspicious look.


	9. Chapter 9

Sam pushed up on to his right elbow, laying on his hip and after a moment or two, was able to raise his head. Focusing his eyes to look around the room however, remained an elusive goal. He couldn't coordinate his hands to do what he wanted them to nor could he concentrate on what he wanted to know. Such as where he was. He remained still, breath hitching in short gasps as he relied upon his hearing to make sense of what was going on around him.

When that failed and he was unable to gain perception, he tried to remember what had happened that made him feel like he did, which was like shit. Tears pricked his eyes behind closed lids as it became clear, what he remembered was precious little. He punched the mattress but flexing his shoulder caused him to gasp out loud and the flare of pain caused him to abort the movement. His uncoordinated reaction caused his hand to fall limply to the mattress to lay beside his arm that supported his weight. Not being able to see, hear, remember or even think, was terrifying and fear began to weave and wrap its way up from his belly. Forcing himself not to panic, he struggled to bring forth a thought or memory.

There'd been rain, a lot of rain and mud…had he crawled through mud? Yeah, he had…to Dean who grabbed him and…..huh, yeah, men in reflective coats, asking him if he were ok and then there'd been a plane that Dean had refused to get on. He'd been strapped down on his back, unable to sit up, begging Dean to make the blaring sirens stop. They had, but then bright lights and loud voices had made his head explode and he'd been taken away from Dean and been surrounded by machines….was that right? There'd been a car, yes, he'd definately been in a car, with Dean - in the backseat ….no, that couldn't be right….Dean would've been driving.. No, no, no…he had a clear fuzzy, hazy memory of being unable to stay sitting upright and Dean had been on his right telling him he couldn't sleep, then…..nothing.

"Dean?" he gasped out, white-knuckled fist thumping the mattress. "Dean!"

"Sam?" Maggie said tentatively, unsure if he were capable of responding to her or not. He lifted his head slightly at the sound of her voice, eyes still closed but he didn't speak. What the hell was wrong with Jody and Dean that they had left him alone? The boy had no idea where he was or who she was. Hell, she didn't even know if he'd recognized Jody, she doubted it because he had shown no response to her presence. "Sam? Are you alright?" not knowing what to do, she just stood and watched him balance his weight on his elbow, head dipping and jerking back up as he struggled to push himself into sitting up. "Sam, no, just lay down, you're ok…..don't try and get up…that's…"

Sam lurched for the edge of the bed, able to hang his head off the mattress before spewing the meager contents of his stomach - liquor - onto the floor. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his head, slapping out when Maggie attempted to approach him. The way he gingerly lowered his head to rest his cheek on his hand had her retreating to the bathroom door.

"Dean?" she knocked on the door. "Dean?"

"Yeah?" the door opened without warning. Her eyes narrowed as she took in his ashen pallor and sweat-lined lip and forehead. "What?" Dean countered, squirming under her visual perusal. He raised a hand to wipe at his face, unable to hide the wince or hitch in his breath. "Steam." he offered lamely.

His arm hurt, was killing him actually. Rowing the boat while fighting the current and hauling two people up the side of a cliff had popped every stitch Maggie had so patiently and expertly set. He'd thought he'd avoided injury to muscle or tendons or whatever hell layer was beneath skin, but now he wasn't so sure. His arm was throbbing, it burned clear up to his shoulder. He flexed his fingers, making a fist as he rotated his wrist. He still had full movement, couldn't tell if there was numbness or loss of feeling but his fingers flexed and grasped and he was able to get his grip tight. He'd deal with it later.

"Yuh-huh." her dry tone recalled his attention and when Maggie didn't move as he stepped forward, he forced his way past her.

"Sam's sick." she informed him. "Why didn't you get out of those filthy clothes?"

"Yeah." Dean sat down on the bed next to Sam who rolled onto his back, squinting up when Maggie moved to hover over Dean's shoulder. "What's up Sam?"

"Oh, I'll take a guess." Maggie murmured sarcastically. "The fifth of whiskey you poured down his throat?"

"Nah…" Dean sniffed. "Probably whatever's burning in the kitchen." he didn't show any worry over what that might be nor for his brother who was squirming on the bed, hand reaching for and finding nothing to hold. "Never shudda let you fade out." he sighed, taking hold of Sam's head, palm on each cheek to hold him still. "Can you look at me?"

"Oh!" Maggie jumped. "My soup!" she wanted to chide him over denying his brother comfort but one look at his face had her clicking her teeth firmly together.

"Naaah...Ooo're ewe?" Sam slurred, eyes searching for the familiar visage of Dean. "'Eeeenn? Ooo's dat?"

"Right here." he watched as Sam tried to slant his eyes toward his nose, trying to bring them under some sort of control. He next tried to pinpoint them on Dean and failed with a moan of misery. "That's Maggie, don't you remember the Sheriff's mom? Sam? Hey?" he snapped his fingers, hoping the sound would jar him into full awareness. He only had himself to blame, he shouldn't have taken the time he had in the bathroom. Not when Sam's bouts of awareness were further apart with each one being shorter than the previous one and his level of alertness since passing out on top of the cliff steadily decreasing.

"Why are his eyes rolling like that? That's...not...that...I say Dean, that is not normal." Maggie frowned, burning soup forgotten. Sam reacted to the sound of her voice, head rolling on the mattress to try to locate her when his eyes refused to focus. One eye rolled up under its lid, leaving only sclera visible. The other skittered to the outer corner of its socket and bounced about. "Close your eyes Sam." Dean placed his palm over his brothers forehead, slowly covering his eyes with his hand. "Only gonna make your head hurt worse you keep trying to see. Okay? I'm right here."

"I….." he licked his lips, letting a soft sigh escape. "I…don't….not…." his fingers finally found something to grab, snagging the denim of Dean's jeans. "Sh-it."

"You don't feel good, I know." Dean said patiently. "Sorry dude, but you're not gonna for a while." he felt Maggie's eyes on him, sensed her incredulous expression as she stared at him in disbelief. "What?" he snapped somewhat defensively. "It's a headache."

"That boy should not be here. He should be in a hospital." she pointed to Sam as though Dean might not know to whom she referred. "He has a serious head injury, he must be in extreme discomfort and should have professional care and around the clock monitoring."

"Probably." Dean agreed. "Gonna be a rough couple days."

"And yet, here he is." Maggie sniffed in blatant disapproval. "He does not belong here!"

"He'll be ok." Dean looked about the room. "Aah, he….you're gonna hafta be quiet next day or so." he leaned over Sam and across the bed to unplug the digital clock. "No lights…..might be a good idea not to cook anything….no strong smells…..kid's gonna hurt….no sense doing anything to make it worse." he started to stand but was held back by the grip on his jeans. "Close the curtains."

"My God." she said slowly. "You…you're willing to subject him to this, this…misery so you can….." she shook her head, shuddering in revulsion. "You would put him through this just to keep him with you? I can't believe you would do that, would want to." boy, he sure barked out orders with every expectation they would be obeyed.

"I've put him through worse."

She turned her back on him and marched over to yank the drapes closed. He was so matter-of-fact about putting his brother through pain, of letting him suffer, in what was her opinion, needlessly, that she wanted to knock him off the bed onto his ass. What could be worse than forcing your head-damaged brother to consume a copious amount of alcohol so you could scrub him with a frick-fracking scrub brush? Okay, maybe there was no traumatic brain injury, but there was still an injury, no - three - and the poor boy was not ok. How could he be? How could anyone possibly justify removing him from a hospital?

"Okay." Jody breezed in. "Sorry about the soup but you won't be eating that for lunch." she noticed the tension between her mother-in-law and Dean then eyed the pulled drapes, the dark clock and heaved a sigh. "Dean, I'll need a light….."

"I'll hold a flashlight for you."

"As well as him?" Jody questioned doubtfully. She'd returned with the requested bucket filled with warm water, bubbles from dish detergent and one soft bristled scrub brush. Her first aid kit contained, among a host of other items not normally found in a store-bought kit, tweezers, forceps, hemostats and surgical scissors. Good ole Bobby Singer. Store bought first aid kits were worthless when it came to tending to these two boys.

"I have teeth." he dipped his hand in to the bucket to test the temperature of the water. He needn't have bothered, he trusted Jody, but Sam would have done so, hell he would have filled the bucket himself. The kid could sneak out and walk away but let Dean be injured or sick and Sam became one possessive son-of-a-bitch. He trusted no one with Dean and felt no one was more capable than himself to take care of him.

"How….how did you know to come home Jody?" Maggie questioned. "And how did you boys get here Dean?"

"They flew us into Mitchell." Dean fingered his bruised cheekbone and sent a glare Sam's way. "Some local beat cop gave us a ride here, had to throw your name around Sheriff, sorry." he swallowed down a wave of nausea. "Left your car in Chamberlain."

Jody glanced at the bruised cheek then cast her gaze down to the floor to hide her smirk. She didn't have to ask how Sam had gotten Dean on board for the flight. "Booze too much for him?" she produced a roll of paper towels and knelt to hastily clean the floor. She'd do a better job later. She'd have more than the floor to clean up by the time they finished with Sam.

"Burnt soup."

"Aah, right." she stood up. "I'll send someone to retrieve it…..ready?"

"Jody, you're seriously going to let him do this?" Maggie blinked as it dawned on her that Dean expected Jody to assist him in his primitive attempt at first aid and she was willing to do it. "You aren't really going to help him, are you? Isn't using a scrub brush rather extreme? I mean, there are other ways to….."

"Hey, you wanna spend the next several hours picking gravel outta him with tweezers, go right ahead." he wiped his face on his sleeve, rubbing his forehead against his raised shoulder. "Doubt he'll let you and I ain't gonna make him." his child-like action of tiredly rubbing his face against his shirt translated 'ain't gonna' into 'I can't'.

"I still don't understand why you didn't have him treated while he was at the hospital." Maggie huffed. Good lord, the reason Dean was about to scrub Sam raw was because he was too tired to take the time and remove the gravel properly.

"They wudda, had they the chance." Dean rubbed at his forehead. Wrestling with Sam over the whiskey bottle had left him feeling a tad light-headed. "When we got there, they took him off for tests on his head, any other injury waited until after his head was diagnosed."

"And you took him away before that could happen." Maggie accused. Dean shrugged.

"Margaret, that's enough." Jody glanced up at her. She could see Dean stiffen out of the corner of her eye, saw his jaw tighten and knew they'd pushed as far as he was going to let Maggie push. She didn't want to upset her mother-in-law or hurt her feelings but Dean was her first priority. She'd never be able to take care of Sam without him. "Dean? You ok? How's the arm?"

"It'll hold."

"Ready then?" she wasn't convinced Dean was as ok as he claimed but she'd wait until they'd settled Sam before seeing how receptive he was to letting her take a look at his arm. One brother at a time was all she could handle.

"Yeah…." he pried Sam's grip loose and got up, moving around the bed to grab Sam's ankles and drag him down the mattress so that his calves hung over the foot board. "Sam?"

"Mmm?" he stirred, hands, having lost their previous hold, gripped the sheet underneath him. Shit, he didn't feel good. He tried to collect his scattered thoughts and focus, if not on himself then on Dean but wasn't successful. All he could remember was collapsing into Dean's arms and Dean's refusal to board a small plane. Damn it, why couldn't he recall anything else other than he was with Dean? Like where they were and who they were with? "My….'ed…..ow."

"Yeah, yeah, your head hurts, got that." Dean muttered, he couldn't make the room any darker or any quieter. He took a moment to take off his boots, gave his mud-dried stiff socks a dubious look then shed those as well before crawling on the bed alongside Sam. He probably should have asked the doctor at the ER if giving Sam his migraine meds would in any way do him harm. He knew you weren't suppose to take aspirin or ibuprofen with a concussion or possible head injury, but hell, alcohol was a no-no as well. He eyed Maggie, chewing up his lip as he debated whether to ask for her help.

"What?" her arms crossed over her chest and she stared him down, hauteur in her glare. "Don't you even think…."

"Do you….." he paused, not used to asking for advice unless it'd been from Bobby. "You think it's ok to give him Zomig?"

"Are you telling me he suffers from migraines?" ooooh, she was going to…...do what? What was she going to do? Argue? Berate the man? Sam was already down and about to find out what a carrot felt like and Dean looked ready to topple right off the bed at any second. The longer she argued, the longer she delayed them both relief and rest.

No!" Dean said defensively. "Well, we don't know….he….gets headaches, bad ones, not often…..mostly when I'm…..anyway…..we found Zomig works…..but…."

"You don't know? You found? No doctor issued that prescription did he? You have no idea whether he has migraines and if he does, whether or not Zomig is the best medication for him! You self diagnosed….how on earth did you get that medicine without a prescription?" Dear Lord, she needed a cigarette! She'd never smoked in her life but now was a good time to start. God-damn it, she was going out right this very minute and buying a pack - no - a carton of Newport Menthol 100's. She was gonna sit her ass down and start a-smoke-in, puffing one right after the other, in the house with a glass of wine, no sherry, no…..brandy…oh screw it, a bottle of hard whiskey. She'd chug it from the bottle too.

"Yeah, well, we make do." Dean snapped. "May not be the best way, but we do what we gotta. We ain't got the time to worry about the right or proper way to do things. Whatever gets the job done the fastest has gotta be good enough."

"Wow, you boys really hate Tylenol, don't you?" she shook her head. "Head injury, concussion or not, I highly doubt you should be giving him any meds with the amount of alcohol you forced him to drink." she headed for the door. Grumble, growl, bare teeth and snarl at her, will he? Well, no more, she'd had enough. The line in the sand was flashing neon at her. Take the boy from a hospital, force him to drink alcohol, play scrub-a-dub-dub and dope him up on illegally gained, ill-advised meds. "I'll see what I can find out." were the words that came out of her mouth. Where the hell had they come from? She'd intended to announce she was packing her bag and calling a cab!

Dean looked to Jody for an explanation. She just gave him a smile and shrugged. "She wanted to give you Tylenol for your fever yesterday but Sam had a fit."

"Oh." left shoulder, left hip, left knee. Once they were done with him, Sam wouldn't be laying on his left side. Better he stay on his belly anyway. "Right."

"Got him?"

Dean cursed his life. A life that made running from a hospital sooner than medically advised necessary. He didn't need Maggie's displeasure to inform him where Sam should be and why. Did she think he wanted to do this? That he wanted to subject his brother to any of this?

"Keep your eyes closed." Dean ordered Sam. "And don't be fighting me neither." he was tired, God, was he tired. Tired and weak enough that he didn't feel he'd best Sam should he put up a fight. He was too light-headed and dizzy.

"Will a cold cloth do him any good?"

"I dunno." he sighed. "Doubt it."

"Let's give it a try, if nothing else, it'll help him keep his eyes closed."

Dean nodded. The gash on his forehead had been treated and cleaned at the hospital. Three whacks to his head. One on the back of his head most likely had come from finishing the hunt, the other two suffered while either climbing the cliff or falling from it. Luckily, none had split his skull open and stitching hadn't been required.

"Here." Jody handed him the cloth, wet with cold water. Sam protested at first, but a soft word or two from Dean and he settled down. "Okay, you ready?"

"Yeah, start with his knee, get what you can, if he stays still, I'll follow with tweezers. Gimme those scissors…ok…"

"His shoulder?"

"Last."

At first, it only tickled and a word from Dean was all it took for him to cease twitching. When it became abrasive and he flinched away, Dean ordered him to stay still. When it became painful and words were no longer enough, Dean had to push him back down on to the mattress but didn't have to hold him there. When it became unbearable and he resisted Dean's hold, Dean gave up helping Jody and moved to restrain him.

"And that's just his knee." Jody announced. "Moving on." his hip took little time and Sam was able to tolerate it without much fuss. Once patted dry, they moved on to his shoulder. "Ow." Jody winced in sympathy. "Took the brunt of the fall, huh? Hang in there Sam, almost done." her eyes sought out Dean in the dim light. "Dean?"

He had his head against the wall over the headboard, eyes closed. At first she thought maybe he had passed out but upon hearing his name, his eyes opened and he raised his hand to rub at his face.

"Yeah….'k….you with us Sammy?"

First touch of bristle to his shoulder and he was up and scrabbling to get off the bed. Dean easily threw him down onto his back, pinning him there with his hands on Sam's right shoulder.

"Be quick about it." Dean, engaged in a slap fight with Sam, ducked to avoid taking another fist to the face. "Don't you pull a freaking fist on me, you prick." luckily, the combination of alcohol and pain made Sam slow and sluggish and Dean was able to subdue him easily. "Mmmm…fuck….." he got up on his knees, moved behind Sam and grabbed him by the pits of his arms to drag him up the mattress. "Now cut it out!" he encircled his arms around Sam's belly and pulled him close, bare feet curling around Sam's calves to restrain his legs. "Shit." liquor might have made him sick, but it had also done what Dean had intended it to do, render him pliable enough Dean was able to keep the upper hand.

"Almost done." Jody didn't waste time trying to be gentle. She wanted this over. She would have preferred to scrub him in the tub but understood it was easier for Dean to fight him on the bed and not in the confinements of the tub. Besides, Sam deserved a reprieve and if soaking in the tub granted him that, she wasn't going to be the one to suggest denying it to him. "Wanna clean him up here?"

"No, he can wash in the tub, the rest can wait." he was panting, trying to catch his breath. "God enough…..Sam… come on."

Jody hadn't agreed with the decision to give Sam half a bottle of whiskey but she now understood it had been more for Dean's benefit than Sam's. His hands were shaking and she could see that blood had seeped through the bandages wrapped around both palms. She bit her lip to keep her comments to herself. knowing Dean wouldn't tend to himself until satisfied that Sam was settled, she just hoped he didn't pass out on her before Sam did.

Dean dragged Sam off the bed and into the bathroom where he maneuvered him into the Jacuzzi tub and let him whine and sniffle his way through being doused with warm water that stung and burned his raw, abused skin. His feeble attempts to get out of the water ended when Dean smacked his good shoulder and growled at him to 'man up and sit still'.

"Just sit there." Dean ordered wearily. "Can you do that? Christ, it ain't that fucking hard." he took a seat on the toilet, his hands had mutinied with his arm and he needed a moment to close his eyes and hang his head in an attempt to try and stave off another dizzy spell.

"Sti-ing-ngsss."

Right, he couldn't leave Sam unattended in the bathroom while in the tub. Didn't trust the kid not to pass out and drown. Taking a deep breath, he raised his head, intent on getting a glass of water from the sink faucet and found himself eye to eye with Sam who sat on the edge of the tub, feet on the floor.

"Get your ass back in that tub." he bit out, voice laced with menace. Sam blinked. "You gonna make me throw you in?" he shouldn't be angry, Sam was drowsy and spacey and unable to think coherently but Dean found that he was livid. Exhausted and shaking with exertion, he was unable to accept the explanation Sam's disorientation could be from a possible undiagnosed concussion.

Dean tackled him, water sloshing as they both toppled into the tub. Sam went ass first into the water, Dean holding his head as he fell so he didn't hit the wall or tubside. His howl of agony topped Dean's roar of rage and Dean tried to push his weight off him, but his hands took exception, despite the protective bandages, to the warm water and he went face first into the water.

"Dean? Need help?" Jody called from the bedroom as water splashed out the open doorway. "Guys?"

"NO!" he used his elbows to gain his balance and push out of the tub. "STAY!" he grabbed Sam's ankles and jerked him off his ass, submerging his shoulders. "I said, STAY!" there was more water on the floor then in the tub and what remained became dirty soon as Dean dunked Sam's head under the water and scrubbed at his hair.

"Lemme out." Sam begged, hands holding his head. "God, Dean….puhl-leese….lemme out."

Dean caved. He found it difficult to stay kneeling over the tub on the slippery floor. It stretched his arm out and made it impossible to effectively fight the dizziness. "Okay….ok…come on…..Sam, hey…no…no…sorry, I'm sorry…..it hurts, I know."

Once Sam was sitting on the side of tub, Dean toweled his hair until it was no longer dripping, catching him several times and preventing him from falling sideways.

"Waa-ette." he pinched the dripping hem of his boxers and tugged the material away from his skin. "Wet."

"Yeah…yeah….." he cupped Sam's chin and raised his head. "Sam? Hey…how many fingers?" Sam blinked, eyebrows working but his eyes didn't focus.

"Ow." he moaned.

"Okay, ok….shit…." Dean let him go. Sam let his forehead rest against Dean's hip, murmuring about being wet. "Okay, yes, I know…you're wet."

"Ready for…" Jody's voiced trailed off as she studied the destruction in her bathroom. She held gauze and bandages and spray antiseptic in her hands. "Oh boy, well, okay, let's get you bandaged up and back to bed….okay Sam?" she looked at Dean. "Wanna do this here or in bed?"

"Let him lay down." Sam didn't protest when pulled to his feet and led back to bed. He remained quiet and mostly cooperative while Jody and Dean tended the skin with Bactine and applied bandages. "Spray huh?" Dean grabbed the bed post to steady himself. "I'm gonna shower."

"Call me when you're ready for me."

"For what?"

"Your arm, your hands…what'd you do to them anyway?"

"Rope burn."

"And you weren't treated at the hospital?"

"Nah…..rescue guys did me up."

"Call me." her grin faded as Dean left the room. She wasn't sure Sam was as ok as Dean said he was. He couldn't keep his head up or focus his eyes, he slurred his words, didn't acknowledge her and didn't know where he was or who Maggie was. He couldn't tolerate light or smell, and if at any time, he started vomiting or became confused and disoriented, she would do battle with Dean over taking him to a hospital.


	10. Chapter 10

"You sure he's comfortable like that?" Maggie whispered to Jody. "You just scrubbed him like you were cleaning a carrot."

"He's fine, stop fussing." Jody said tiredly. Holding, scrubbing, plucking and bathing Sam had taken several hours and she wanted to go lay down. "Let him get some sleep, we'll clean him up later." she set the nasal injector Dean had handed her when he'd been done with it, on the dresser. Whoever would have known one didn't simply inhale Zomig from squeezing a bottle shoved up a nostril?

"I'm not fussing. The sheets are dirty, the mattress is wet and he's still wearing those wet drawers you left on him when you allowed Dean to throw him in the tub." she wrinkled her nose in distaste. "How can he be comfortable in wet clothes?"

"Drawers?" despite her exhaustion, Maggie's inability to refer to modern-day underwear as anything other than 'drawers' made her smile. She turned to look around the room, walking over to peek into the bathroom and making a face at the mess left on the floor from Sam's displeasure over his bath. "Oh for the love of…" she blew out an exasperated breath.

"Where's Dean, I don't see him." Maggie bent over and peeked under the bed.

"You know, I don't think he'd be under the bed." Jody grinned, giving the older woman a hug. Maggie said nothing. She couldn't help but think of the boys as 'boys' and in her experience after raising five of them, when they got tired, they sought out quiet, dark places to take a nap.

"He got himself off to somewhere." Maggie said finally. She hadn't found anything on-line that had warned against taking migraine meds with a head injury though she was pretty sure Dean had decided to give his brother the meds despite what she found out. He hadn't said anything but Maggie got the impression he believed Sam's pain came from a headache, not a head injury.

"Yeah, mostly likely after a bottle." Jody tugged gently at a tuft of Sam's hair to ensure he was asleep then tucked the blankets more securely under the mattress. He would have to really set to thrashing to pull them free. "He went to take a shower. You're just as tired as I am, let's go get some sleep. We'll clean this mess up later…"

"Jody…."

Jody spun around, fatigue forgotten and Maggie ignored. In all the time since she'd first met one Mr. Dean Winchester, he had never called her anything but Sheriff Mills. Not once could she ever recall him calling her by name.

"Dean?" she started forward as Dean, who was standing in the doorway from the hall, swayed. "Dean! What…..?" she didn't reach him before he lost his hold on the door frame and hit the floor. "Oh, not good, oh so not good."

Sam stirred at the thump. Jody spared him a glance but he settled down so she turned her attention to the man sprawled at her feet.

"What the HELL is that all about?" Maggie demanded to know. She groped for the dresser and grabbed it with both hands. "THAT IS IT! I am calling 911 and don't you DARE be telling me no."

"SsshhSShhh." Jody hissed as Sam moaned, kicking against the blankets. "Dean?" she knelt beside him, fingers feeling for a pulse in his neck, finding it weak and thready. That made her frown and chew on her lip. Had it been _or_, she would have shrugged it off, but not _and_. A rapid pulse from dehydration she could deal with but she didn't much like that his pulse was weak, that meant he'd lost more blood that she was comfortable with.

She cast her eyes up and down the length of his body, then his arms and legs, eyes lingering on his hands before fixating on his arm. His left arm. She thumped her head against the open door. Of course, 17 stitches. The dumb ass had likely exerted himself beyond human endurance. He'd been weak and tired when he'd left to go after Sam and she knew enough of the story to know Sam hadn't been found just sitting on a tree log waiting for rescue.

Rising to her feet, she braced herself with a hand on either side of the door frame, planted her right foot on his left shoulder and shoved with all her might. It took a manly grunt that had Maggie gasping and Sam raising his head from the mattress but she managed to roll Dean to his back. She squatted down beside him, picked up the cuff of his shirt sleeve and after accepting scissors from Maggie, cut up to his shoulder and through the bandage.

"Oh, you dumb ass." she moved her feet beneath her ass and took a seat. "Dean, Dean, Dean." she tsked.

"What?" Maggie shuffled closer. "What? Jody, what…..OH GOOD GOD!" she exclaimed. "MY GOOD WORK! What the hell have you done? _Dumb ass_? Damn fool you mean! Jody….Every stitch, every last one! He's torn out every single stitch! Oh let me at him! LET ME AT HIM!" her trusty slipper once again in hand, she started whapping him on his good shoulder. "Go cavorting about the mountains in the middle of a flood with an injured arm that I sewed up, will you? Suffering from allergies, an allergic reaction to medication, loss of blood, dehydration and a fever! A fever no one would let me treat! OH! Oh, Oh, OOOH YOU! " whap, whack, whop. "Rowing a boat and hauling someone the size of your brother up a cliff with a rope by YOURSELF!" she knew that because at some point, Jody had talked to some official somewhere and gotten most of the story. "Someone should have turned you over their knee a long time ago mister. I'll tan your hide but good, see if I don't!"

"Maggie…Be Quiet!" Jody made a grab for the slipper. "Maggie, stop." another grab and another miss. "Mom! Enough!"

"What ails him Jody? He was at a hospital! A HOSPITAL! What the hell was he doing while Sam was having tests? He couldn't go to the ER and have himself seen to? All this time…..hours, HOURS Jody, he's been bleeding and in pain while he saw to Sam."

Yeah, Jody thought as she wound a towel around Dean's arm. Yup, that would explain what they were doing back at her house. Sam knew Dean would not take care of himself and Sam wasn't capable of doing it. And she'd known it. On some level, she'd known it. She knew about the injury to Dean's arm, knew more about it than Sam did. Dean, master-of-deception he might be, could only hide what those around him were willing to let him. Sam trusted her enough to do her best with Dean until he was able to bully the stubborn ass into accepting the care he needed. And so far, she'd failed. She should have insisted on seeing Dean's arm before they ever started with Sam. Had he taken five minutes hours ago, he probably wouldn't be in the condition he was in now.

"Okay, come on Dean, wake up." she figured his desire to kiss her carpet had been a result of exhaustion, dehydration, loss of blood and pain. Wrestling with Sam both on the bed and in the tub had caused him to put forth an effort that would have exhausted him even had he been right-ways to begin with. Looked like her bed wouldn't be sought as soon as she'd thought. It might only be a bit after dinner time, but it wasn't like she'd gotten any sleep the previous night.

"What are you going to do with him?" Maggie asked. "I suppose 911 is out of the question. You know Jody, I'm beginning to think they avoid hospitals. Why is that? Is there something I should know?"

"Long story." she nudged Dean in the side until he stirred in agitation and moved away from being poked. "Get up, come on…..you're next….let's get you cleaned up." he gave a soft groan, eyes opening, frowning as he looked up, surprised to find himself on the floor. "Yeah, that's the floor." Jody patted his cheek. "You fainted."

"I did not." he grumbled, embarrassed. "Men don't faint."

"They pass out, right?" she moved off her knees and stood up, extending him a hand. "Can't stay here, let's get you settled so Maggie can stitch you back up."

"Naw…..I'm good….just….maybe a bandage, I guess." he sat up, hand to his head until the dizziness receded. "Sam?"

"He's asleep, gonna be for awhile…best thing to do is leave him alone." Jody guided Dean to his feet, giving him a moment to gain his balance then pushed him from the room. "He needs quiet Dean….come on….I'll keep an ear open for him…Maggie grab that kit, please, we're gonna need it."

Maggie looked around the room for the first aid kit. It sat on the nightstand next to the bed and when she reached for it, a hand clamped around her wrist. She squeaked, jumping in fright, opposite hand pin-wheeling as she lost her balance and started to fall backwards.

"Jo….dee?" yanked forward, she over balanced and feel to her knees, cheek on the mattress and - nose to nose - with Sam.

"You…" Maggie licked her lips, mouth so dry she swore her tongue was swollen. "You….you can't be…" she gave herself a mental shake. "No…no…there is no possible way you're awake….it's not possible, it's not."

"Jo…dee."

She frowned, did he think she was Jody or was he asking for her? She didn't see how he could be awake or alert or thinking coherently on a conscious level. It just wasn't possible. It wasn't! The room was still dim, nearly dark but with her face on the mattress so close to his, she could see that his eyes remained closed.

"Green…..duffle…..garage." good thing she was literally in his face or she wouldn't be hearing the words coming out of his mouth. Whoa, new talent, for she was quite sure she was reading his lips in the dark! "Bottle…..blue…lid…P…."

She remained kneeling despite the uncomfortable position it forced her into but he said nothing more and when the grip around her wrist went limp, she pulled free and stood up. Shaking her head, she tucked the first aid kit under her arm and left the room. Sam must be dreaming or hallucinating for there were no green duffel bags in the garage. And if by some chance he'd seen some other bag, there was no way he would know what was in it. Right?

Maybe it was because it had taken the poor boy a good minute or better to say seven words. Maybe she believed he'd actually known what he was saying. Whatever, here she stood in the garage staring at several bags on the floor; one a green duffel.

Dean allowed himself to be led down to the room he'd been sharing with Sam and started to sit down in the spindly arm-chair he wasn't at all sure would hold his weight. What was it with women and fragile chairs that were only good as decoration?

"Nuh-nuh." Jody gave him a shove that nearly knocked him off his feet. He stumbled, reaching out for support. "Sorry, sorry…..lay down."

"What?" his head came up and he stepped away from her. "No, Sam…"

"We'll hear him and really, what good are you going to be if you pass out from bleeding all over my house? Huh? Let me get you patched up and take a nap so when he sleeps off the whiskey, you'll be able to help him, okay?"

He wanted to argue but he knew she was right so he sat down on the lower bunk, slowly laying down with his right side to the wall. He gave in to his body's demands and closed his eyes, letting Jody have her way.

"You need to drink." she tapped his cheek. "It's just water….I'll start you on Gatorade soon as you're stitched up." Dean raised himself up on his elbows to accept it than remained reclined to watch as she pulled the towel she'd wrapped around his arm away. He bit his lip as she applied a wash cloth then pressure in an attempt to stop the blood that had starting oozing with gusto as soon as she'd cut off the tight bandage. "Feet up." she held a folded blanket that she placed beneath his heels. "Head." she a plumped a pillow. "Okay….." he heaved an irritated sigh as she covered him with a blanket. Enough with the feminine fluffing, it was annoying.

"OW!" he hissed, jerking up then flopping down onto his back as she thumbed his wound. "Fuck."

"Sorry, sorry…I don't want you drinking alcohol but I have….." weak _and _thready pulse she reminded herself. It was enough to make her seriously consider mentioning he go to the ER.

"You most certainly are not giving that boy one lick of alcohol." Maggie stated, coming into the room. "Not with his recent blood loss and exertion…he needs to drink but let me assure you, alcohol is not on the menu."

"I know." Jody did what you weren't suppose to do and peeked under the cloth.

"Lordy Sweet Jesus Jody, how am I suppose to stitch that?" Maggie exclaimed as Jody folded a second cloth, put it on top of the first one and re-applied pressure.

"Cut it." Dean said wearily. His own head was throbbing and suddenly, all he wanted was to pull the pillow over his head and hide. Sweat beaded across his nose and he used the sheet to wipe his face.

"Cut what?" Maggie was startled. It was a good thing she could easily read lips because she was really going to have to make an appointment to get her hearing checked.

"The skin that the thread is attached to." Dean explained. "Just take the scissors and cut it off, gonna scar anyway."

"You want me to cut your skin off with scissors?" Maggie said faintly. "Just…cut it…just like that?"

"You're gonna hafta."

"Jody, I can't do this. I can't." Maggie was appalled. "Sewing stitches is one thing, but….."

"Then gimme the scissors."

Maggie's eyes widened and her mouth worked like a guppy. "You can't possibly…"

"Shush." Jody told him, bopping him on his shin. "You're sure you don't want to go to the ER?"

"Can't." he wiggled his fingers. "Don't hafta. Got complete movement….just sew."

"Stop moving." Jody admonished. Blood had soaked through the second cloth and she folded a third.

"What are these?" Maggie held up a bottle from the green duffle bag she'd found in the garage, just like Sam had indicated she would.

"How…." Dean scowled as Jody elevated his arm with a pillow under his elbow.

"I can't believe you haven't exhibited symptoms of shock." Maggie huffed and puffed and tsked and tutted as she thought of how used to injury and treatment he was to remain so calm and matter-of-fact. "Maybe some ice, what do you think Jody?"

"How did you get those?" Dean wanted to sit up, at least lean against the wall but he didn't resist Jody's restraining hand against his shoulder.

"Why, I used my legs to walk my two feet out to the garage."

"How did you know…" he fell silent. If she'd rooted through the bags Sam had left in the garage before leaving on the hunt, taking with him only what he'd needed, she would have seen guns, ammo and knives. Well…..he eyed her…she thought they were law officials.

"What are they?" though she'd come across several bottles, some with blue lids, some with white ones, all labeled with a single but different letter, she'd only removed the one Sam had specified. "Don't you duck that chin…what are these?" she gave the bottle a shake.

"Percoden." he wasn't going to argue with that tone, not when she'd soon be wielding both scissors and needle with him all but at her mercy.

"What is Percoden? You mean Percocet?" she was momentarily taken aback by his lack of hesitation in answering her. "Jody, here, let me…..while you get the man some ice….it'll help slow the bleeding and reduce any swelling."

"No. Percocet contains Tylenol."

"Of course it does, God Forbid, you take anything that has acetaminophen in it. Saint Sam will rise to strike me down. What on earth does he have against Tylenol anyway?" perhaps Sam needed a taste of her slipper. "What about Demerol?" she reached for a fourth cloth in case she needed it.

"Has Tye…."

"Right, right….well then…..what doesn't contain acetamin….? Oh, oh, oh, oh-oh-oh-oh….. Holy Moly what does Percoden contain? Don't you ….oh no, oh don't you dare tell me aspirin….I mean….." hello heart attack, nice to finally meet you, took your time arriving. "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?"

"Maggie?" Jody came through the door and closed it behind her with a quiet click. "What you yelling about? Keep it down!"

"Did YOU know about these?" she held the cloth with one hand, waving the bottle about with the other, avoiding Jody's attempt to take it from her. "Did YOU?"

"What is it?" Jody handed the ice bag wrapped in a linen towel to Dean before turning her attention to Maggie. "Maggie, calm down, what's the matter?"

"HIM! He is!"

"Lower your voice!" Dean growled.

"YOU. SHUT. UP."

Dean blinked, forehead wrinkling and mouth forming an 'O' in consternation.

"Maggie, seriously, don't wake Sam up." Jody warned.

"Sam. Sam. Sam." she chanted. "Sam's fine, fine enough to tell me where to find these!"

"What are…..?" Jody finally snagged Maggie's arm, drew her hand down from over her head and wrangled the bottle from her. "Dean, what did you do to her?"

"Uh….aaah…..nut-in." he muttered, squirming uneasily under their dual glare of disapproval.

"Uh-huh…." she turned the bottle around, failed to see a label, popped the lid off and shook two out, looking to Dean for an explanation. "Well?"

"Percoden." Dean sighed.

"Oh." she stared at the two pills in her palm then put one back into the bottle. "Forgot the Gatorade….so drink this glass of water for me, okay?"

"EEEEEEEEEE-AAHHH-EEEEEE!" heart attack, meet stroke.

"Was that a word?" Dean asked Jody as he swallowed the pill and drank the water. He might be good at understanding Sam's grunts and noises but this was beyond him.

Maggie slumped into a chair, doubled over, put her head between her knees and let her hands dangle by her feet as she struggled to bring her breathing back from wheezing pants.

"Mom, you ok?"

"NO! No, I am not ok!" Maggie whipped her head up, lips pursed as if having just sucked a lemon, tongue finally obeying her request to remove itself where it had adhered to the roof of her mouth. She shook her head at her daughter-in-law and thumped her fist against the vanity table. "Don't." she whispered furiously. "Just don't. Don't you dare treat me like I'm some naive stupid old woman who has no clue what's going on."

"Maggie….."

"You gave him that! You willingly gave him medicine that contains aspirin! ASPIRIN JODY! I did not raise a stupid son, he would not marry a stupid woman…you have to know better than that! I know you do! He is bleeding out in your sons bedroom for the second time in two days and you GIVE HIM ASPIRIN!"

"Calm down." Jody said patiently. "Really Maggie, there is no need to carry on so. He is not bleeding out…he didn't sever a vein for Pete's sake."

"I don't know who they are or how you know them but law officials, my ass. Not with what they know and the way they avoid the hospital. Nuh-huh."

"Now….."

"I'm not asking, I don't want to know." she straightened her glasses and put the ice bag where she wanted it, not where Dean had put it. "Just….tell me this….this Percoden…it has a street name?"

"Street name?" Jody hid a smile but she looked at Dean for an answer.

"Oxycodone." he supplied reluctantly.

"Narcotic?" Maggie sat primly in the chair, hands folded on her lap.

"Opiate." he pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's considered a controlled substance."

"Not prescribed by a doctor." breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth, pause, repeat. Good girl Margaret, keep breathing...it's not like they're criminals or anything. The guns, the knives, the axes and machetes, the various other weapons she didn't know the name of but knew they were..._weapons_…...OH DEAR GOD her daughter-in-law was housing criminals!

"No."

"Nor any of the medicines in any of those bottles in that bag."

"No."

"Blue _and_ white lids?"

"Blue are mine, white are Sam's….."

She nodded. So, Sam hadn't been confused when he'd specified blue lid with the letter P. He'd known exactly what he'd wanted her to get. Why separate the meds? Her nose twitched, allergy? Dean had recently thrown a reaction to DPH, perhaps he had previously known allergies to medications. Could a person be allergic to acetaminophen? She didn't think so, but she didn't know. She'd just bet the bottles with the white lid had meds that contained acetaminophen too.

"Can Sam take the meds in the bottles with the blue lid?"

"Yes."

"Well, congratulations." Maggie announced, mind made up. She trusted Jody with her life, loved her like a daughter. If these two drug-addicted, alcoholic criminals were welcome in her home, so be it. "You've managed to do in less than two days what five sons and a husband couldn't do in over forty years." she turned a light on. "Turn me into a chain-smoking alcoholic….." she moved the vanity table chair closer to the bed and plopped herself down with a thud. Reaching out, she snagged his hand and pulled it into her lap. "I need better light Jody. Whose bright idea was it for bunk beds anyway?"

"OW!"

"One wince, one whine, one more whimper and I will stab you with the needle until you have something to cry about…..Jody, he's bled through….you rip these stitches out a second time and I will put you back together with glue and a desk stapler."

Dean blinked. "Aah….." he didn't know how to respond to that so he said nothing.

"You sure he didn't nick a vein?"

"No."

"How am I suppose to know then?"

"You'll need something to use as a tourniquet." Dean spoke up when Jody remained silent.

"A what?" damn, her hearing was on the fritz again.

"Use a tourniquet to slow the bleeding, get it to stop by applying pressure, then stitch." Dean explained.

"And how does that answer the question whether or not a vein was nicked?" she countered.

"There'll be signs if there's any internal bleeding."

"And how much more blood can you stand to lose?"

"A lot." he gave her a weary smile, eyes showing a sparkle that had her blinking.

"And I'm sure you know all you need to about how to apply a tourniquet." Maggie sniffed, unwilling to cede this round to him. "I may not know a lot about treating injuries like yours at home, but even I know a tourniquet is applied as a last resort."

"Well, yeah, in the….aah, green duffel you'll find bandages with a…" he paused at the look to cross her face and bit at his lip. "Stick….."

"Your very own ready-made tourniquet, why am I not surprised." she shook her head. "You are one…." she didn't finish that thought. "And of course you know where to apply it?"

"Close to my shoulder as you can get it." he was pale and again she wondered about his continued refusal to seek medical help at a hospital. Well, least it wasn't only his brother he subjected to misery and suffering.

"Fine." she squared her shoulders. "I'll bound your arm, cut off your skin and sew up your wound but if you think I'm going digging around in the meat of your arm with hemostats looking for a nicked vein to clamp off, think again."

She wasn't gleeful, she wasn't. But after the scares he'd given her, she was unable to stop the broad smile that crossed her face when he proved incapable of remaining as stoic as he had the first time she'd stitched his arm. She was glad that he finally showed an emotion!

They hadn't had to tie the tourniquet as tight as they could have. No one had said it aloud, but the excessive bleeding most likely was because he'd been taking ibuprofen and aspirin despite knowing better. After applying the tourniquet, Jody easily brought the bleeding under control. Maggie cleaned the wound as best she could what with Dean tensing up and flinching about. Seemed he hadn't taken her threats seriously.

A groan or two wiped the grin right off her face. A choked cry kept it gone and she grimly set about snipping and cutting and then sewing. She wondered if he would have hollered and cursed had he not been well aware doing so would disturb his brother. Probably. She had to admit though, he tolerated her administrations better than she had expected and he hadn't passed out.

"I still think he's a damn fool." Maggie said as Jody tucked his newly bandaged arm next to his side under the blanket. "You won't listen to me about giving him those meds, so next time he takes one, get him to eat something, even if it's only crackers."

"Thank you." Jody gave her a hug. "Go to bed."

*****************00000000000000000*********************

Jody pulled her bathrobe on as she walked down the hallway towards the kitchen. It was barely dawn but the growling of her stomach had awoken her. She was sharing a room with Maggie since Sam was still ensconced in her bed.

The house was both dark and quiet, as it had been for the last twenty-four hours. No noise sounded, no TV, no radio, not even the ticking of a clock. Sam was still asleep and death to anyone by Dean's hand who dared do anything that might awaken him. She grinned to herself. She hadn't even been this quiet when Sean had been a newborn. Her grin faded as she reminded herself the reason the house was in total darkness and silence.

She put a kettle of water on the stove and set about making some toast. The brothers could stay as long as they needed to and they would, but it wouldn't be as long as they should. She'd give Sam two weeks to rest and recover but she knew once Dean was sure Sam could tolerate light and sound, they'd be gone. Sam, who'd be dopey and malleable and had already manipulated the situation to get them both to her house, wouldn't win another round of Give-Sam-His-Way. Not with Dean.

Course, she wasn't sure how soon Dean would be on his feet. The man had lost a good amount of blood. Exhausted, in a bit of pain and running a fever, he needed rest, liquids, pain meds and more liquids. It would take him a week or so for his body to regain its strength from its recent trauma and blood loss.

"What are you doing up so early?" Maggie padded into the kitchen in her bare feet. "Here, here, sit…jelly?"

"Why are you?" Jody set two mugs on the table and went to the fridge for cream and butter. "Woke up hungry."

"How's Sam doing?" Maggie got the bowl of sugar from the cupboard.

"Sleeping, I can't get him to rouse for me, but Dean can."

"Dean?" Maggie paused. "He's been up?"

"Just to check on Sam."

"And?" Maggie prompted. "How's he doing?"

"He was groggy, but knew Dean…he went right back to sleep."

"You get him to eat anything yet?"

"No."

"Can he focus his eyes yet?"

"He will for Dean."

"He able to speak yet?"

"No."

"Tolerate light?"

"No."

"And Dean?"

"Made it down the hallway without kissing my carpet."

"Well, I left you alone yesterday, you were tired and made arrangements to retrieve your car, since no one seemed concerned about Sam's, I assume….it was…..stolen." she paused but Jody did not agree or deny. "Okay….start at the beginning, we have all day….I doubt either one will be up and around for another day or so."

*********************000000000000000000000*******************

This time when he awoke, he knew where he was and how he came to be there. He felt no immediate need to pack up and leave, he was too tired to do more than give it a courtesy thought. Might be no need to leave, but there was a need for him somewhere. After a quick trip to the bathroom, he padded barefoot down the hallway, rubbing his hands through his hair as he yawned. He heard the voices coming from the kitchen along with the smell of coffee and soup. He'd go see about something to eat soon as he saw for himself his brother was ok.

Standing in the doorway, loathe to venture into the room in case he made a misstep that woke him up, he stood and watched until he could discern the rise and fall of the chest on the man sleeping on his back, one arm thrown up over this head, the other held protectively on his belly.

"Sorry." Sam whispered, giving in to his desire to be closer, he took a seat on a chair that wobbled beneath him. "Next time you hide an injury from me, there won't be anywhere for you to hide." he looked at the bandaged hands, lightly rested his fingers on the bandage around his bicep. "Goes both ways dude." since his brother was asleep and no one was around to see, he let the smile of genuine affection tug at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, maybe you wouldn't have liked me much while I was at school, you wudda hated my friends, but….nothing, not a mountain, not a river, not a quacked-ass family would keep me away from you if you needed me."

Dean stirred, cheek nuzzling into the pillow Jody refused to let him discard but he didn't wake and after a moment, Sam went in search of lunch.

************************************END****************************************


End file.
